Bender Goes to Prom
by stuffbylouie
Summary: John Bender, at Prom, wearing a tux. Yes, a tux! It was his choice. Claire didn't make him do it. In fact, Claire didn't even know she was going to Prom until John showed up at her house that evening…
1. Part One: Chucking an Allison

**BENDER GOES TO PROM**

_John Bender, at Prom, wearing a tux. Yes, a tux! It was his choice. Claire didn't make him do it. In fact, Claire didn't even know she was going to Prom until John showed up at her house that evening …_

Hey Breakfast Club people! This is my first time writing for this fandom. I wasn't going to release this story just yet (I have a few other projects that need finishing), but I wanted to see how people respond to the first chapter. I've got this fic listed as Romance/General, though I'd say it's more of a Romance/Dramedy. Please review, and enjoy!

As of **21/10/08**, the first chapter of this fic has been edited. I've notably added quotes from the original movie to each section. They're quotes I feel are relevant to what's happening with each stage of the story (and they're obviously not mine, they belong to John Hughs!).

* * *

**1.**

**Saturday Afternoon, March 24th**

_"I can't believe this is really happening to me ... "_

_– Claire Standish_

"Who _was_ that boy?"

As Claire's father drove them away from Shermer High, Claire knew this question would surface sooner or later. Doing her best to sound nonchalant, she answered: "just a guy I met in detention, daddy."

"Oh. It's just he seemed … "

"He seemed what?"

"Nothing."

_Poor dad _Claire thought, without too much pity. The last thing he expected when he came to pick up his princess from detention was the sight of her kissing John Bender. Yes: heavy-metal dope-smoking John Bender. The guy who would be on detention until he graduated (_if _he graduated). Not that Claire's dad knew John's colourful backstory. Hell, just to _look_ at John … you knew the guy was trouble. Those dark intense eyes, the ripped denim, that knife he kept in his pocket –

_Oh my god_ Claire thought to herself, smiling. _One day ago anything to do with someone like John Bender would've totally disgusted me!_

Claire's dad caught her smiling to herself, and grew even more concerned. "Claire, are you dating this boy?"

"_Dad_! I only met him today. Relax, or you'll get a permanent worry crease in the middle of your forehead."

"It's already permanent," he remarked offhandedly. "I just think if you are dating somebody they should come to the house and introduce themselves."

"Sure! If this was 1950 … "

"I mean it, Claire!"

"All right," Claire droned. "I got it."

Claire suddenly got the funniest mental image: John Bender in her house, sitting down to dinner with her dad at one end of the dining table and her mom at the other. Her mom offering John a glass of wine with his cracked crab … she giggled.

"What's so funny?" her dad asked, executing the worry crease again.

"Nothing," said Claire, covering it up with a fake cough. "Nothing's funny."

**2.**

**Monday Morning, March 26th**

_"You won't accept a guys tongue in your mouth and you're gonna eat that?"_

_– John Bender_

Claire spent all of Sunday alone, anxious about Monday. She didn't even answer any calls from her friends. They were probably only ringing her to ask why she didn't go to Stubby's the other night …

She knew Brian, Andrew, Allison and John must be feeling anxious as well. A huge part of her never wanted to leave that Saturday detention. Just the five of them, hanging out and talking … _really_ talking. Nobody being fake, all guards down. Who knew detention could be such a life changing experience?

But Monday had come, and Claire was late for English.

She'd made herself late on purpose. Being late meant she'd be completely preoccupied all morning rushing around, and she wouldn't have time to think about the Breakfast Club properly. Would the spell of Saturday be broken? Were they all going to ignore her? Would _she_ ignore them? And John … what was going to happen between her and John? Maybe he'd pretend the kiss never happened? Asshole!

Frantic, Claire ran down the school hall. She was only two minutes late – hardly cause for concern, right? With her leather bag on her shoulder, and a copy of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ in her arms, Claire dashed to the left and abruptly entered the classroom.

"Sorry Miss Brunswick!" she said breathlessly, closing the door behind her.

Miss Brunswick, the small, thin-faced forty-something English teacher stared at Claire through her reading glasses from the blackboard, where she was writing a series of notes. Luckily for Claire, she didn't seem too angry.

"Sit down please, Miss Standish," she instructed.

Taking a breath, Claire scanned the classroom for an empty seat …

_John!_

Looking as if she'd seen a ghost, Claire spotted John Bender sitting in the back row. He was wearing the exact same thing he'd worn on Saturday: torn denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up, red flannel shirt underneath, and black leather biker gloves. He saw her see him, and he looked pleased to have caught her by surprise. He even had the indecency to give her a curt little wave. _Asshole! Since when was he in my English class? _

"Are you all right, Miss Standish?"

Claire had been so shocked by John she hadn't moved from the door. The whole class was staring at her, snickering to their neighbours behind their hands.

"S – sorry," she stuttered, and walked directly to a seat in the front row. Talk about humiliating! A near silent 'pst!' came from her left as she sat down. She turned; it was Brian. He grinned at her widely, silver braces gleaming. Claire smiled weakly, still recovering from her humiliation.

_Guess they're not ignoring me _she thought, opening her notebook. _And I guess I'm not ignoring them …_

For today's English lesson, the class was to watch a film. Miss Brunswick turned off the lights and set up the projector, playing a recording of a stage production of _Romeo and Juliet_ for the students. Claire liked Shakespeare and was happy for the distraction. She didn't dare turn around and look at John … even though it was tempting. Towards the second half of class, Claire swore she heard snoring. The next thing she new, the lights were on and Miss Brunswick was yelling –

"_Mr Bender_!"

Feeling safe to do so, Claire turned around. John, the culprit, was shocked awake by the sound of Miss Brunswick's voice. He looked disorientated a moment but regained his cool with expert timing. Flicking his hair back, he replied with a feigned tone of politeness: "Yes, Miss Brunswick?"

"Mr Bender, you have been sleeping all through the film!"

John gave her the puppy dog eyes. "My deepest apologies, Miss Brunswick. I admit I was having a little shut-eye, but it was only because I find the film's material gratuitously offensive."

"I _beg _your pardon?"

From the front row Claire cleared her throat, signalling for John to give it a rest. If he heard her he didn't take the hint.

"Romeo and his pals are wearing beige tights. _Beige_, Miss Brunswick. Doesn't leave much to the imagination. Are you aware there are virgins in this classroom?"

Brian wheezed and dropped his pen. Claire closed her eyes and bit her lip. Everyone else was laughing. This only spurred John further.

"I am shocked Miss Brunswick, really I am! That you would corrupt their minds in this way."

"Out!" cried Miss Brunswick suddenly, pointing to the door.

"Then again," John carelessly continued, "if you wanted to expose us to a bunch of guys in tights with their wieners poking out, you could've scheduled English in time with the next wrestling meet."

More laughter. Even Claire and Brian tried not to laugh, remembering John's anti-wrestling stance against Andrew the previous day. Thank god neither Andrew nor any of his friends took this class.

"OUT!" Miss Brunswick shouted for a final time, cracking.

_At least she didn't send him to Vernon's office_ Claire thought, as John slipped on his shades and waltzed out of the classroom. She quickly leaned over to Brian and whispered: "since when did John take this class?"

"Bender's always been in this class," Brian whispered back, thrilled to have Claire talking to him. "He just never showed up, that's all."

"Oh," said Claire, as she wondered what suddenly made him show up today.

"Miss Brunswick!"

Claire had her hand raised. This probably wasn't the best time for her to be disturbing the teacher, but she couldn't help herself. She had to go after John.

"What is it, Miss Standish?" said Miss Brunswick shortly.

"Can I go to the bathroom please?"

To her immense relief, Miss Brunswick nodded in consent. Claire could feel Brian grinning at her. Ignoring him, she stood out of her seat and left.

John was walking on up ahead down the empty hall. At the sound of the door opening and closing he spun around. He saw Claire, and removed his shades.

"Speaking of people who never did it … "

"Oh shut up!" Claire hissed, stalking towards him. "Are you trying to get yourself expelled?"

"I don't like beige tights! It's a thing I've had since childhood – "

"Stop it! I'm being serious. You're already in more trouble then anyone else in school, so why do you keep screwing up? They'll kick you out."

"And that's your concern … because?"

Now he was giving _her_ the puppy dog eyes. Claire gulped, and quickly noted that John was wearing the diamond earring stud she'd given him on Saturday, in his left ear lobe.

"It's not my concern, but it should be yours," she said hastily. "Why did you take English today?"

John suddenly looked uncomfortable, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"I was chucking an Allison," he said at last, with an evasive hair flick.

"You were what?"

"I had nothing better to do."

"You had nothing better to do? You could've come up with a better excuse then that!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know! Like you ran out of dope?"

"Why do you care if I get expelled?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"That wasn't changing the subject, princess. _This_ is changing the subject … "

Before Claire could see it coming, she was in John Bender's arms with his lips pressed against hers. Claire's first reaction? To push him off her and slap him – mostly out of shock. But her second reaction … her _gut_ reaction …

_Wow!_

She could taste cigarette smoke in his mouth, but not even that could've stopped her from kissing the crap out of him. Her hands seized the back of his head; fingers entangling in his hair, meshing both their faces even closer together. John responded by pinning her against the lockers behind them. Then, coming somewhat to her senses –

"_Wait_!" she panted, breaking their kiss abruptly. "John, what are we doing? We can't make out in the hall during first period!"

"I'm just following your lead, Miss Standish," John purred, staring tempestuously into her eyes.

"_My_ lead?" Claire was outraged. "You kissed me, you jerk!"

"After which you thrust your tongue into my mouth – "

"I did not!"

" – and grabbed the back of my head like you were clutching for life support."

"You pinned me against this locker!"

"That's protocol for when a girl attacks my tongue with hers!"

The school alarm sounded off, signalling that first period was over. Claire pushed John away from her, as students began to stream out into the hallway. Nervously fixing her appearance, Claire attempted to tidy her hair and smooth her shirt. John smirked at her all the while … licking his lips.

"You look better come undone," he said in a low voice, causing Claire's cheeks to redden.

_He's enjoying this! But then again … so am I._

They exchanged a look reminiscent to the one they shared when Claire went to 'rescue' John from the closet Principal Vernon had locked him in, during detention on Saturday. Moments after they'd shared _that_ look, Claire had gone over and kissed John on his bare neck …

"TBC, cherry," he said, with his smirk in tact, as he turned and walked away.

_TBC? _Claire wondered, making her way back to Miss Brunswick's classroom to collect her things. She thought for a minute TBC must mean 'The Breakfast Club'. Then she realised, with butterflies in her stomach, that it most likely meant 'To Be Continued'.


	2. Part Two: I'm not sexually frustrated!

**3.**

**Monday Afternoon, March 26th**

"_Sweets … you couldn't ignore me if you tried!"_

– _John Bender_

"Claire? Earth to Claire!"

It was one o'clock. Claire went to meet her three best friends Harvey, Lisa and Del in the Cafeteria, as was routine for this time of day. But today was distinctly different to any other. Claire hadn't seen her friends since the end of last week. Yet, after everything that went down on Saturday, it seemed like years.

"_Claire_!" said Harvey, raising her voice and clicking her french polished fingers in front of Claire's face.

"Sorry, what?" said Claire suddenly, blinking a couple of times. "I spaced out."

Lisa and Del laughed. Harvey was perturbed, but amused.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you? I said guess who asked about you at Stubby's the other night."

Unless it was either John Bender or Kevin Costner, Claire honestly wasn't interested.

"Who?" she asked, out of requirement.

"Todd Dale," said Harvey, smiling. She looked to the others for backup.

"We think you two would be perfect together!" said Lisa, enthused.

"_Totally_ complimentary!" added Del.

All three girls stared at Claire, expecting her to be pleased.

"Todd Dale?" Claire repeated. Of course Claire knew perfectly well who Todd Dale was. He was one of the stars of the football team, a total jock. Kind of good-looking, in a 'white bread' sort of way. A week ago she might have found this appealing but now …

"Claire," said Harvey, sensing Claire's uneasiness. "I know you say you don't want to date anybody unless they're in college, but Todd Dale? C'mon! Make an exception. You guys would be shoe-ins for Prom King and Queen."

"Nah," said Claire, shaking her head. "I don't want to go out with Todd Dale."

"_Why_!" all three girls exclaimed at once.

"Because he thinks he's the shit! And he's got too much gel in his hair."

_I prefer__ a guy whose hair I can sink my hands into._

While Claire was thinking this rather perverted thought, she noticed Brian on the otherside of the Cafeteria, heading out the exit.

"I gotta go," said Claire to her friends, standing from her seat. They were all ogling her as if she'd been possessed by someone they no longer knew.

"Go where?" questioned Lisa.

"Are you feeling all right?" said Harvey. "You haven't got your monthly, have you?"

"Eh … yeah. I'm early," Claire lied, keeping her friends at bay for now. "Drag! I'll see you guys later."

Claire departed the Cafeteria to talk to Brian, only once she left she couldn't see him anymore. She kept walking, and then stopped. Something – or rather_ someone_ caught Claire's eye out the window ahead, facing the back of the school. The sky was dull and overcast, just as it had been on Saturday. John Bender smoked a cigarette while talking animatedly to one of his friends on the concrete steps. He wore his long grey coat and red scarf …

_That __kiss._

Somewhere back down the hall Claire's friends and everything she once knew continued on without her. She was likely to be missing an imperative discussion about Stubby's party or the Prom at that very moment, and for the life of her she didn't care. She watched John … his mouth especially. The way his lips moved as he talked; the way he puffed out cigarette smoke into the cold air, not giving a damn if a teacher or anyone saw him. _God _how she wanted to defy everyone and everything and just –

"Ahem."

"_Brian_!"

Brian was standing right behind her. Claire swerved around, hand on her heart. She was caught completely by surprise.

"Sorry!" Brian apologised, holding up his hands in defense. "Sorry, I was trying _not _to scare you. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Brian peered inquisitively from Claire, to John through the window, back to Claire again, grinning the same way he'd done in English.

"I ah," Claire began, feeling embarrassed and motioning vaguely to the window. "That's … John. Outside."

_No shit, Claire! _

Brian suppressed a chuckle. "Yeah! Yeah, I remember him quite well. So listen, if you're not too busy do you want to come to the library? I'm supposed to meet Andy and Allison."

He sounded hopeful. Claire nodded.

"Sure. Let's go."

"Well well well!"

This was the friendly greeting Claire received from Andrew when she approached him and Allison in the library. The two of them were sitting together on the lounge upstairs – the same lounge where she, Brian and John previously got high. Fond memories!

"Hey Claire!" said Allison, glad to see her. "We definitely weren't expecting you."

Claire sat across from them, next to Brian. They all stared and smiled at her, as if she'd performed her lipstick-in-her-bra trick again.

"Okay … " said Claire warily, feeling self-conscious. "What's the deal?"

"We had this bet," Andrew explained, quickly looking to Allison and Brian. "That out of the five of us, you'd be the least likely to talk to any of us again."

"Actually the precise terms were 'deny our existence'," Brian clarified.

"Nice!" said Claire, pretending to be more offended then she was. After all, she did pretty much say she _would_ ignore them if she got the chance. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"We're happily disappointed," said Allison. She was telling the truth.

Allison appeared nearly the same as she had at the end of detention, although Claire noted her make-up could do with some tweaking. And her clothes were still verging on fashion disaster, but at least her hair wasn't hanging over her face anymore. And as for her status with Andrew, the body language said it all: they were sitting hip-to-hip, with Andrew sneaking glances at her here and there. The guy was smitten; so much so that not even alleged tales of nymphomania and compulsive lying could thwart it.

"Have you talked to Bender yet?" Andrew asked Claire, taking a break from Allison-gazing.

"Yeah! I did," said Claire, her voice slightly higher then normal. She brought it down. "We talked after English this morning."

_Talked … swapped spit …_

"Is he okay? I mean … are you guys okay?" Allison asked, with some caution.

Everyone knew, out of the entire Breakfast Club, that John and Claire were the most passionately opposed that day in detention. However, somewhere along the way passionate dislike had turned into … well, passion!

"We had an argument about tights and him getting expelled. Other then that, we're okay I guess."

Claire did a quick, sideways take of Brian. She was certain he'd spotted her as he was leaving English class, just as John had walked away. Her hair all ruffled, her lipstick rubbed off …

"John was our second choice," said Allison. "In the bet, I mean. The second least likely to acknowledge our existence."

"Oh," said Claire, intrigued. "Has John said hi or anything to any of you today?"

"He high-fived me at the beginning of English!" said Brian proudly. "Kind of hurt my hand though."

"Yeah. He yelled out 'CLARK!' this morning at the front of the school when I was getting dropped off. Then he did this … "

Andrew held up his hand in the 'corna' gesture – a.k.a. 'rock on'. Everybody laughed.

"So what are you all doing up here?" Claire asked, curiosity overwhelming her. "You guys miss the library?"

"Brian's my new tutor," Andrew declared. "I want to give being smart a try. Get my grades up."

"He's going to quit the wrestling team this week," Allison disclosed. Claire was stunned.

"You're not lying again, are you?"

"No, she's not," said Andrew shyly. "My old man will be out for blood once he finds out. I'll have to move into my cousin's place for a while, until the storm dies down. If it ever dies down … "

"He also wants me to introduce him to Larry," Brian divulged. "In the strictest confidence."

"_Maybe_ introduce me to Larry," Andrew emphasised. "I'd like to apologise to the guy, though if I were him I'd probably never want to see me again."

"Wow, Andy. You're turning into a saint," said Claire, genuinely impressed. If somebody as popular as Andrew could consider giving up wrestling and apologising to Larry Lester for taping his buns, why couldn't Claire change? Defying everyone and everything was sounding better and better.

The four of them talked through lunch, until the bell rang. Andrew and Allison went their separate ways, while Brian walked off with Claire. They ended up passing the window where Claire had seen John earlier, but he was gone.

"He'll make another appearance," Brian assured her, catching her trying to scope out John. "Knowing Bender he's probably released himself for the day."

"How are you going, Brian?" Claire decided to ask. On the surface Brian seemed normal. Cheery, even. But Claire knew deep down he must be going through some stuff, considering what he'd told them all on Saturday.

"I'm fine," he said sheepishly, looking into her eyes and then quickly away again. "Better then before."

"You should get John to help you in shop class," Claire suggested.

"Do you really think he'd help me?"

"Crazier things have happened."

Once Claire reached her next class, Brian said goodbye. She wondered if anybody had seen them walking down the hallway just now. It was more then possible. After all, _everyone_ knew who Claire Standish and her friends were. Anyone who mattered, anyway.

_Conceited _Claire thought and groaned, checking herself. Then she realised it didn't bother her as much as she thought it would – the idea of one of her friends spotting her and Brian together. Well … maybe it bothered her a _little_. She hadn't quite reached sainthood just yet.

Thoughts of John Bender swiftly intercepted all other thoughts from her mind.

_There goes concentrating in class!_

John and Claire wouldn't reunite until tomorrow. On Tuesday.

**4.**

**Tuesday, March 27th**

"_I'm not that pristine!"_

– _Claire Standish_

A note was crammed in her locker. It read, in capital letters:

'TBC, BACK OF THE SCHOOL. LUNCHTIME.'

He didn't sign his real name. Instead he wrote: 'the Airborne Ranger'. Claire smiled, hearing John's less-than-musical singing voice ringing in her ears …

_I wanna be an airborne ranger!_

It was one o'clock sharp when Claire went outside to find John. Another cold, dreary Chicago day …

From the moment she arrived at school and found John's note, Claire had barely been able to function. She squirmed and fidgeted all through her morning classes, constantly checking her watch or the clock on the wall. Three hours to lunchtime … two hours to lunchtime … _one hour_ to lunchtime!

Her friends rode her off, blaming her period – which was thankful because Claire couldn't concentrate on anybody or anything for long without drifting into her imagination where she and John frequently kissed one another … or worse. Over the weekend Claire hadn't _dared_ let herself imagine anything beyond kissing John Bender. But now, ever since _that kiss_ yesterday morning Claire's daydreams were taking a turn for bolder territory.

_Unbelievabl__e. I can't believe I'm letting some guy affect me this way. It's so pathetic!_

Pathetic. She was Claire Standish, a girl with a reputation. A girl who wouldn't let the boys near her with a ten foot pole and a condom attached. Sure she always used the excuse she was only into college guys, but that was more or less a cover …

"Don't you just want to _do it_? Aren't you even curious?"

Harvey liked to challenge Claire's virginity, as did her other friend Lisa. Del was similar to Claire, so she was naturally on Claire's side. Claire remembered a conversation they'd all had in the girl's bathroom the previous Friday, one week before the Breakfast Club. They were standing at the sinks, fixing their make-up in the mirrors.

"Have you ever seen one before?" said Lisa devishly, giving Claire a half-smile.

"Seen one what?" frowned Claire, blushing her cheekbones.

"_Cock_!" Lisa blurted out, making Harvey laugh. Del screwed up her lipstick.

"Now look what you made me do!"

"Charming. Really!" said Claire snootily, continuing with her blush. "I felt one against my leg on my sixteenth birthday, from that Ted guy who used to stalk me … "

"Ew," groaned Del, disgusted at the thought.

"That would be a big, hard … _long_ no then?" joked Harvey, laughing with Lisa. Claire snickered and rolled her eyes.

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"Because! I just think it's time you 'widened' your horizons a bit more. You too, Del."

"Nuh uh!" said Del, sounding horrified. "I'm a Christian, you know that. I don't do anything below the hips."

"Claire's not a Christian. What's her excuse?"

"Have you not seen the cretins that infest our school?" said Claire harshly, moving onto plucking her eyebrows. "The selection's about as appetizing as what they're serving in the Cafeteria."

"You've just got to have a good eye," said Lisa optimistically. "True, we are cretin heavy at this school, but there's still hope. I saw Andrew Clark from the back yesterday! I swear, he's got the most _biteable_ ass … "

Everyone laughed, Claire included. "Lisa, you're a health hazard!"

"Claire, take my advice," began Harvey, once they'd calmed down. "Do it before college. Any guy at this school would readily serve your needs in a second."

"_Only_ a second?" Claire raised an eyebrow. "Please, sign me up!"

"Okay, hopefully longer then a second," Harvey chuckled. "But we are talking high school boys. Pick a decent one and go for it! Sexual frustration is bad for your complexion."

"I'm not sexually frustrated!"

"Then why are you plucking your eyebrow off?"

Claire put down her tweezers. She hadn't realised she'd been plucking so vigorously.

This had been fourteen days ago. How much Claire's world had changed since then.

Though Harvey and Lisa teased Claire about her virginity, it never really struck a nerve. People rarely struck Claire's nerves at Shermer High because everyone basically worshipped her and her clique. Boys brave enough to ask he out were always turned down; and Claire, honestly, _enjoyed_ turning them down. Until Saturday came along, Claire liked keeping them all at a distance. Admired from afar like a cool, elegant Hitchcock blonde on the silver screen. Someone like Grace Kelly … a princess.

And now, here she was! Skipping lunch and braving the weather outside, dressed in her brown leather jacket and matching gloves to meet up with John Bender. _He'd_ struck a nerve – countless nerves. Like no one had ever done before. What was that word he'd used to describe her? _Pristine_. John had been right. Claire always turned her nose up at people who surrendered to their emotions. People who got 'messy'. Romance, passion … lust. It was pathetic! Pathetic and … liberating.

The back of the school was deserted. Claire crossed her arms, searching up and down. At least none of John's 'burner' friends were present, that was the last thing she needed. Suddenly …

He was waving to her, about twelve metres ahead. She could only see half of him, the other half was concealed behind a tree. One of the rare trees to occupy the grounds of the concrete jungle that was Shermer high.

With a deep breath and her arms still crossed, Claire paced forward. She couldn't see any part of John now, he'd disappeared completely behind the tree. On instinct, she turned to look behind her. Nobody. She scanned the windows … as far as she could tell, nobody was watching. They were all holed up in the Cafeteria, where it was warm.

"John?" she whispered, approaching the tree. "_John_!"

Claire yelped. John surprised her, grabbing her hand and pulling her round to his side. She found herself in a similar place to Monday morning – though instead of being pinned against a locker, John had her against the tree. And he was mighty happy about it!

"You _came_!" he whispered sarcastically. The innuendo was not lost on Claire.

"Don't be a prick!" she hissed, returning the sarcasm. John cocked his head and smacked his lips.

"I'm in luck. Did you know it's national kiss-a-prick-day today?"

They both laughed. Claire smoothed her hands up his chest, over the grey fabric of his coat, and said, "I'd still kiss you even if it wasn't."

"Well that's good to know … "

She'd imagined he'd kiss her hard like yesterday, but he didn't. He leaned into her slowly, like how he'd done after detention, and kissed her softly. _Intimately_. All of sudden the cold, dreary Chicago day wasn't so cold and dreary anymore …

They stayed like that for a while. Wrapped around eachother, kissing. Exploring eachother in small, tentative stages. John removed the pink scarf Claire had been wearing and started kissing her neck. Soft, butterfly kisses … working his way down to her collar bone. Claire was breathing so fast she was panting. Her gasps for breath hung in the winter air in front of her face like steam. She was getting so hot, ripping her jacket off was becoming awfully tempting … but would that give John the wrong idea? On that thought, she felt the zipper of her jacket being opened. _Thank god! _John was kissing her collar bone … then her breast bone, over her blouse. Then –

"_Oh god_!" she breathed, bringing his face level to hers. "John, you can't do that."

To this he growled. Low in his throat, like a dog that'd been denied its favourite bone.

"It won't hurt," he mumbled.

"John, I can't go back to school with drool on my … " she hesitated.

"Nipple, Miss Standish?" John offered, smirking.

"Yes! Thank you."

"It'll feel good … "

"No!"

"I'll let you kiss mine!"

"_What_!"

"I'll stand on my toes so you don't even have to bend down. See?"

He proceeded to do just as he said, opening his coat and offering his chest to her like a gift. Claire laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.

"Do it!" he pretended to plead, throwing his head back. "They're erect, that's when they're most sensitive."

"John, stop!" Claire laughed, her hand on her stomach. "Stop it! I can't breathe."

He kissed her mouth again, and Claire stopped laughing. He kissed her until the end of the lunch hour, when they faintly heard the bell go off in the distance.

_I hate bells._

"We better go," said Claire, sounding glum.

"Yeah," he said, playing with a strand of her hair. "I'll go first?"

Claire nodded. "Okay."

"You ah … up for this again some time?"

She answered him with a kiss. "Write me."

John smiled – satisfied. The diamond ring in his ear glinted as he walked off, leaving Claire to catch her breath. She waited a few minutes, before coming out of hiding.

You know when you _know_ something's going to happen to you? Not necessarily because you want it to happen, but just because … you know. Like a premonition. Claire knew, calmly and without a doubt as she walked back towards the school …

_John's going to be my first._

* * *

**Fun Facts:** Judd Nelson starred with Kevin Costner in 'Fandango' before 'The Breakfast Club' (great movie, if you haven't seen it). That's why I wrote the line, "Unless it was either John Bender or Kevin Costner, Claire honestly wasn't interested." Also, when Claire says, "I felt one against my leg on my sixteenth birthday, from that Ted guy who used to stalk me … " This is in reference to Farmer Ted (Anthony Michael Hall) who was in love with Molly Ringwald's character Sam in 'Sixteen Candles'. Yes, I know my 80's trivia …


	3. Part Three: As big as a banana?

**5****.**

**Wednesday – Thursday,**

**March 28th ****– March 29th**

"_You see as us you want to see us."_

– _Brian Johnson_

The Breakfast Club was evolving into something of a secret society.

It had no choice. Nobody would ever accept or understand why a criminal, a princess, an athlete, a basket case and a brain would be friends – and the Club wasn't interested in explaining themselves, either. Why should they? So they went underground. If and when they interacted during school hours, they always kept it as discreet as possible. Outsiders who were more then slightly observant whispered amongst themselves …

"I saw Bender helping Brian Johnson in shop the other day. What's up with that?"

"Hey, why does Brian keep hanging out with Andrew Clark in the library at lunchtime?"

"Who's that new girl Andy's always with lately? She's hot!"

"Whatever happened to that psycho chick? You know, the one who always wears black and ignores everyone … "

"_Who_?"

John was allegedly seen helping Brian in shop class that week. If any of John's friends taking the same class asked any questions, John just told them to "fuck off". Simple, yet effective. When Brian worked up the nerve to ask John if he'd help him on a project after school, John surprised Brian and himself by saying yes.

It was now common knowledge amongst Andrew and Brian's friends that Andrew was being tutored by Brian in his spare time. Andrew's jock friends wailed on him, but Andrew defended Brian, telling them all " … the guy knows his shit. Who else am I going to get tutoring from, _you _boneheads?" Case closed. Brian's friends on the other hand were harsher, because of what Andrew had done to Larry Lester. Larry stopped talking to Brian almost all together.

As for Allison's blossoming relationship with Andrew, they were actually tempted to go public. This was because no one had any clue who the pretty brunette _really_ was; conversing with Andrew between classes and meeting up him after his training sessions in the afternoons (Andrew had yet to give up wrestling).

"My friends think you're … "

"That I'm what?" Allison prompted. She and Andrew were talking after his training, on Wednesday afternoon after school. They walked together down the empty hallway from the gymnasium; Andrew all sweaty with a towel around his neck, and Allison wearing jeans and a white sweater.

"They think I'm _what_!" she prompted again. Andrew was being coy.

"Well," he smiled, "they think you're … a babe."

"Really?"

"That's the short version."

Allison was flattered, but only mildly.

"Like they ever noticed me before! They don't even know who I am … "

"So what? What do you expect? All they care about when it comes to girls is if they think they're hot or not."

"Is that all_ you_ care about?"

She was testing him, and Andrew knew it. She was doing that cute, 'feisty' thing she does with her chin; jutting it out, as if to say 'you wanna make something of it, sporto?' Andrew smiled and stopped walking. He'd had enough wrestling for one day.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" snapped Allison, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other. A week ago she was barely a shadow without any friends. And now … she was pretty sure she was falling in love. With a jock of all people.

"What am I forgetting?"

Andrew took her hand. "That I noticed you before the make-over?"

Allison squirmed, self-conscious.

"Claire did it … " she said pointlessly, smiling as Andrew moved in to kiss her.

While Andrew and Allison were tempted to go public, Claire and John were not. _Definitely_ not! There were two major reasons for this: the first reason was Claire and John's relationship was not as 'defined' as Andrew and Allison's. Andrew and Allison were going steady; Claire and John were meeting up at random places around the school to suck face. The two had barely had a decent conversation since Saturday. Were they boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? _Enemies_ with benefits? They'd yet to label themselves. And the second reason? They got off on it! Sneaking around behind everyone's backs. The only people who knew were Brian, Andrew and Allison … and possibly Carl the janitor.

"Perfect. I think I'm getting pash rash," Claire grumbled at her reflection in the girl's bathroom, applying concealer to her face.

It was Thursday afternoon, the end of the lunch hour. She'd just finished kissing John Bender in an empty classroom upstairs. On Wednesday they'd met behind the tree again, but today they decided to go some place new. It was less likely they'd get caught if they kept moving location.

"_Egh_!" she moaned, catching sight of a red mark on her neck. She was going to need more concealer.

A minute later …

"Claire!"

Harvey and Lisa entered the bathroom. Good thing Claire was 'concealed' by then.

"We've been looking for you! You bailed on us again at lunch, where have you been?" asked Harvey, tilting her head inquisitively.

"Yeah, what's going on? Haven't got any secret lovers you're not telling us about," said Lisa, giving Claire a nudge.

"Eh," mumbled Claire, turning away to pretend to look for something in her bag so they wouldn't see the shocked expression on her face. "I'm still kind of sick. I went to lie down and chill in the library."

"Sucks. Well, just remember we've got a Prom Committee meeting tomorrow at lunch."

"Prom Committee meeting!" exclaimed Claire, snapping her head towards them. She'd forgotten all about it.

"Senior Prom, Claire?" said Harvey, talking to Claire as if she were suffering from brain damage. "The most important event of our lives?"

"Claire, if you're not feeling good double your dosage of pain-killers. That's what I do," Lisa suggested. "It's the Prom Committee, you _love_ Prom Committee! Beats hanging out in the library … we figured you'd be sick of the library after your detention on Saturday."

"_Which_ you never told us about," added Harvey, looking up at Claire through her blonde fringe.

_Great_ Claire thought. She had really wanted to avoid this topic.

"There's nothing to tell," Claire shrugged casually. "We all just sat in the library for the whole day, counting the minutes until we could go home."

"You and who?" Harvey pushed. "Who else was there?"

"Andy Clark."

"No _shit_! Did you see his ass?" Lisa interrupted. Harvey rolled her eyes.

"Not in the flesh," said Claire, smirking. She decided to avoid telling Lisa that Andrew had a new girlfriend. She'd find out sooner or later. "Brian Johnson was there, and Allison Reynolds … "

"Who?"

"I didn't know her either. And … John Bender?"

Harvey snorted in disgust. "God, that gearhead! He's the reason we all got pulled out of school on Friday, for that fake fire drill. He's always doing shit like that."

"I think he's kinda hot," said Lisa, picking at one of her nails.

Claire and Harvey stared at Lisa – Claire especially.

"What?" said Lisa, looking up from her nail. "In a … creepy, I'm-not-gonna-touch-it kind of way."

"Lisa, sometimes you are _so_ bizarre," said Harvey, rolling her eyes.

"We're all pretty bizarre sometimes," said Claire, thinking of the Breakfast Club.

"_I'm_ not. I'm a normal person," said Harvey arrogantly. "C'mon, let's get out of here. We'll be late for next period."

**6.**

**Friday, March 30th**

"_Hey Claire … you wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitus of the nuts?"_

– _John Bender_

Early Friday morning, just before class, Claire made her way to John Bender's locker and subtly deposited a note that read:

'Can't meet up today. Prom Committee meeting.'

Knowing that she wasn't going to be with John at lunch made Claire utterly miserable … not to mention extremely antsy. All through her morning classes she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, tapped her pen relentlessly or cleared her throat for no reason. She wondered if John was feeling as tortured as she was. She hated blowing him off, but if she missed Prom Committee things would start to appear too suspicious. After all, along with Harvey Crawford, Claire practically _ran_ the Prom Committee. What would everyone say if one of their 'Queen Bee' didn't show? If they knew she wanted to ditch them all in favour of having her body pressed up against John Bender? Far off in some distant classroom or behind the tree at the back of the school …

But little did Claire know, Prom Committee was cancelled in favour of –

"_Sex_ education!"

"Are you serious?" said Claire to Harvey. They were hanging around Claire's locker in between classes, with Lisa and Del.

"Yes, I'm serious. Everybody in the year's required to attend. I can't stand sex education class! They talk to you like they think you've never had sex before. No offence Claire, Del … "

"None taken," said Claire, unaffected.

"But seriously, they talk to you like you're five years old. Like you still don't know what a dick is!"

"I hope they put the condom on the banana," chuckled Lisa.

"Is it really as big as a banana?" said Del, looking scared. Claire, Harvey and Lisa laughed.

"I'm sure most guys like to think so," joked Claire.

It couldn't have been timed more perfectly: John Bender and three of his friends were swaggering down the hallway towards Claire and the others at that very second. Claire caught her breath. They were all dressed in biker boots, denim, leather … one was wearing a Van Halen t-shirt. The smell of cigarette smoke intensified as they neared, blending inharmoniously with the smell of expensive perfume being emitted from Claire and her friends.

"See you ladies in sex education," quipped John, shifting his shades down his nose – his dark eyes lingering on Claire. Claire smirked. John smirked and puckered his lips.

_He doesn't hate me!_

"Yeah, I've got your sex education right here!" said John's friend, cupping his groin. The girls squealed in disgust – just the effect he was going for. The boys kept walking, laughing raucously as they walked away from them.

"Now I feel diseased!" said Harvey, scandalised. "Did you see the way that Bender guy leered at you, Claire? Like you were a piece of meat?"

"Yeah. Gross," said Claire, smiling internally.

One o'clock, lunchtime. Claire and her friends were assigned to a classroom with John and part of his entourage, as well as Brian Johnson. Andrew and Allison were put together in another class.

On one hand Claire was happy Prom Committee was cancelled … but on the other hand, even though she was technically in the same room as John, she wasn't _with_ him. Plus she had to listen to sex talk for the next thirty minutes! If she thought she was antsy before …

John and his friends sat in the back, to the right. Claire and her friends sat two rows ahead, to the left. Brian and his friend sat towards the front. There was obvious tension between Claire and John's separate groups. John's group kept snickering and laughing, probably joking about what they'd done earlier in the hallway. Harvey kept throwing them icy stares, as did Stephanie Nelson and Kathy Richer – two more of Claire's friends from Prom Committee.

"I think she wants me," commented John's friend – the one who'd grabbed himself – after Harvey gave them all a particularly piercing glare.

"Pricks," muttered Harvey, turning back around. "I can't believe we have to give up Prom Committee to be here with this filth!"

"Good afternoon class!"

Mrs Phillips was a tall, perky woman with wavy brown hair and an infamous 'rack'. John's friends growled like a pack of wolves as she entered the class.

"Now, I know we'd all rather be at lunch, but I only ask for thirty minutes of your time! As you know, the school board requires you to all take an active interest in … "

_Blah blah blah_ Claire thought, tuning out Mrs Phillips' voice. She really wanted to make eye contact with John, even at the risk of making eye contact with one of his friends. She slowly turned her head …

Claire stopped breathing – John had already been staring at her. They grinned at one another, until John's friend saw her and gave her an air-kiss. Claire grimaced; John hit him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"_Ouch_!"

"Mr Bender? Mr Slater?" Mrs Phillips called out inquiringly, looking to the back. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Mrs Phillips," said the two boys unanimously.

"Good! Now … " Mrs Philips swiftly pulled down a chart over the blackboard and grabbed a pointer. "The female reproductive system!"

John and the boys in the back cheered and wolf-whistled. Claire had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing too loud.

"_Why_ are you laughing at them?" hissed Harvey, seeing how amused Claire was.

"What? It's sorta funny … " whispered Claire, innocent. At least Lisa was laughing as well. Claire suddenly realised, had Saturday detention never happened, she would've been rolling her eyes at the burners along with Harvey, and scowling at Lisa for finding them the least bit comical.

"Who would like to take the pointer and trace the flow of the fallopian tube?" Mrs Phillips eagerly asked the classroom.

From the back, John coughed "_Brian_!"

"Brian!"

Mrs Philips smiled and swerved towards Brian Johnson. Brian's pale blue eyes went wide with fear.

"No … " he barely mumbled.

"Come, Brian! Take the pointer, I'll guide you."

John and the others in the back row were quietly hysterical. Claire covered her eyes and groaned.

_Poor Brian__!_

After her final class of the day, Claire discovered a new letter from John in her locker:

'CUM TO SHOP CLASS AFTER SCHOOL. I'LL BE WITH BIG BRI.'

"_Cum_ to shop class," Claire read aloud with a sigh, shaking her head. "I'm seeing the most romantic boy in all of Shermer."

Straight after reading John's note, Claire headed downstairs to shop class – a place she never visited. She came across John and Brian at the back of the room, standing over a large table while working on an elephant-shaped lamp. She stood in the doorway for a moment, quietly leaning against the wall … observing them. It was quite endearing, John helping Brian. Two such unlikely souls!

"Screw that part in tighter," John was instructing Brian.

"I don't think that's right, Bender. I think this part will be too weak as a result," Brian calculated. "I mean, _mathematically_ speaking … "

But Brian shut up once he caught sight of the look on John's face.

"Brian, who's good at shop here?"

"You are … "

"And who sucks at shop?"

"Me … "

"Thank you."

"Hi," said Claire, stepping towards them.

"Claire!" said Brian, smiling.

"Afternoon, cherry," said John in a overly polite tone of voice. "Well, would you look at this? I got the two cherries in the same room all to myself!"

"Ha ha," said Claire sarcastically, becoming more and more used to these crude remarks. As was Brian. "The lamp's looking good. Does the light work yet?"

"We're still working on it," said Brian. "My teacher says if I can get it to work by the beginning of next week, he'll consider re-thinking my grade."

"Brian, that's great!" said Claire, happy for him. "That's really great, good luck."

"Thanks."

John motioned with his head for Claire to walk with him outside. Excusing themselves from Brian, they walked out together into the hallway.

"It's nice to see you helping Brian out," Claire said first up. "Even after what _you did_ to him today at lunch … "

"Oh right! That," said John, with flick of his hair. "Me and Bri are cool on that one. Besides, he needed to get his pointer in some chick's fallopian tubes sooner or later."

Claire and John both laughed. Claire intuitively leaned into John, placing her hands on his chest. He responded by putting his hands on her hips. Claire felt her heart beat speed up as he bore his eyes into hers. She'd longed for him all today, and she could tell he'd been longing for her too. Now that they were close again – _finally_ – it was intoxicating. Like being under a spell … or getting high.

"I was going to ask you," he said lowly, "if you'd see me tomorrow?"

"But you've got detention all day?"

"I know. Think you could stop by and keep me company?"

Claire smiled, not needing to ponder her answer for too long. "All right. You know where Vernon locked you up last Saturday?"

"Yeah … "

"Think you could find a way to meet me in there at around eleven o'clock?"

"Find a way?" snickered John, rubbing his thumbs over her hips, making her weak at the knees. "I always find a way."

_Tomorrow is going to ROCK!_ thought Claire, after saying goodbye to John and Brian and making her exit. The school practically all to themselves, no students or friends to contend with! Only stupid Vernon. It was the perfect situation – especially considering they both had a whole day of pent up sexual energy that was in dire need of releasing.


	4. Part Four: Berry Flavour

**7****.**

**Saturday, March 31st**

"_Have you ever been felt up?"_

– _John Bender_

Claire Standish would never forget Saturday, March 31st 1984 for as long as she lived. One doesn't easily forget her first orgasm – _or_ the first time she ever gave anyone else an orgasm, either.

At a quarter-past ten that morning, Claire critically surveyed her choice of outfit in her full length bedroom mirror. She was wearing a long pink skirt and the same boots she had worn last Saturday. And her shirt … she was wearing her long-sleeved, grey baggy shirt that hung off her right shoulder; the one she often wore to bed or just around the house. It reminded her of the shirt Jennifer Beals wears on the cover of the 'Flashdance' movie poster. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd be wearing the thing to school! With no bra. That's right – _no bra_. Claire smirked at her own boldness. In less then an hour she'd be in the presence of John Bender in a baggy shirt with no bra …

Up until now, Claire hadn't let John 'feel her up'. He'd tried to of course. She recalled their time together on Wednesday, behind the tree. His biker-gloved hand slinking under the hem of her dress, trailing up her thigh …

"_John_!" she'd gasped predictably, pushing his hand down.

"Just one finger," he begged.

"No!"

"But it's so nice and warm up there! My finger's cold – "

"_No_!"

"Fucking tease!"

And on Thursday, in the classroom upstairs. Claire's heart raced thinking about it. As soon as they were sealed inside, John literally _pounced_ on her – like one of those wildlife shows, grabbing her and pushing her back against the teacher's desk. They were hot and heavy that day, so much so Claire wondered if this would be 'it'. But once John tried putting his hand in her blouse, Claire stopped him. She wasn't ready.

Friday they'd been driven apart by the forces of nature (a mandatory sex education class). Sure it was only _one_ day, but Claire felt she'd been denied of John for weeks. She was ready for him now. He'd get the message once he saw the shirt, she was certain.

Before the taxi came to take her to Shermer High, there was one last thing Claire had to attend to: _protection_. She walked to her dresser and opened her underwear draw where she had stashed two condoms. One was a standard latex condom that had been handed out on Friday by Mrs Phillips, and the other had been given to her by Lisa Lundy at the end of last year. Claire picked up Lisa's condom and observed it closely.

"Berry flavour," she read, laughing. Lisa was always going on about how great this particular brand of flavoured condoms tasted on her ex-boyfriend. Lisa would drop dead three times over if she knew Claire was actually considering using it. _And_ on John Bender, of all people.

"I'm not going to do _that_ though … am I?" Claire thought out loud, thinking of John and staring at the flavoured condom with indecision. Then she looked at the other one, with even graver indecision. "And I'm not going all the way with him … am I?"

Claire had known since Monday that John would be her first. But already? _Today_? No, no it was too soon …

The taxi horn blared from outside. Claire threw on her jacket, her scarf, grabbed her handbag … and the condoms, concealing them inside her purse at the last minute.

_Déjà vu._

As the taxi pulled up outside Shermer High School, Claire remembered fondly how it was last Saturday when her dad dropped her off in his silver BMW. She had been _loathing_ it. Hating her dad and the very idea of coming to school on a weekend. Now she was here voluntarily! As she stepped out of the taxi, she was struck by rain. It had started raining on the ride over. She quickly paid the driver and dashed towards the school.

Once inside, Claire removed her jacket and smoothed her wet hair behind her ears. The place was as deserted as it'd been last week. Still, there was always the chance of running into Vernon, or Carl, or possibly a teacher. As long as she reached the closet by eleven o'clock, that's all that mattered.

Claire checked her watch. "Two minutes to eleven. Perfect."

Luck was on her side – Claire's journey to the closet was totally uninterrupted. She'd passed the library on the way, resisting the temptation to open the door and peek inside. Not just to check if John was there, but simply to see it. It wouldn't be the same though, not without Brian, Andrew and Allison on the other side.

Another round of déjà vu …

Claire arrived at the closet, and opened the door. John was waiting for her, sitting on the table exactly as he'd been the previous Saturday. It was like he'd never left.

"You lost?" he said, smiling playfully and crossing his arms.

Claire smiled, and shook her head.

"Nope."

Leaning against the closed door, Claire watched as John stood and stepped towards her, taking her in.

"You're … different," he said thoughtfully. "Undone."

Wet hair, homely shirt, no jewellery, scarcely any make-up … John was right. Usually Claire was 'polished' from tip to toe, but that was only to keep up appearances. She knew she could let that slide today. There was no need to keep up appearances when she was alone with John. They had nothing left to hide.

His eyes edged downwards, to her shirt. He smiled – a cheshire cat's smile.

"So that's the way we're gonna play it, huh?"

When he kissed her, Claire let out a long breath as if to say 'at last'. She dropped her jacket and handbag to the floor with a resounding 'thud' and wrapped her arms around his neck. John was being all slow and tender to start with, building the tempo. Unable to stop herself, Claire interlaced her hands in his hair. John responded by kissing her more deeply, and by moving his hands down from her waist, to the base of her spine … then lower …

They smiled against eachother's lips.

"So this_ is_ how we're playing it," John confirmed, lifting Claire half up off the floor and sitting her on the table behind them. With that, he positioned himself between her legs and started ravaging her lips and her neck, all the while slipping his hands under her shirt and rubbing her up and down her bare back. A moan escaped Claire's mouth.

_I swear, if Carl the janitor or anybody else walks in here, I'll fucking deck them … oh my GOD!_

Not just his hands, but John's _entire head_ was inside the front of her shirt! Thank goodness the fabric was stretchy.

"Oh my god!" Claire kept panting, between sighs of pleasure. "Oh my gosh! _Oh god_!"

It was then Claire vaguely began to remember those condoms in her purse, just as she began to feel John trying to lie her down on her back.

"John," she whispered, stopping him. He grunted, removing his flushed face from beneath the confides of her shirt.

"What's up? Besides me."

"John, what are you going to do?"

Like she didn't know. The cheshire cat smile curled back into John's lips. "Lie down princess and I'll show you."

Claire gulped, thwart between uncertainty and temptation. One of his hands was sliding under her skirt … she didn't push it away.

"You'll love it," he purred. "You'll be so happy!"

"Oh really?" Claire chuckled, taking a sharp intake of breath. John's fingertips were gliding over her underwear … and before she knew it she was lying back down on the table. John remained standing, lifting her legs up and removing the boots from her feet.

She eyed him intensely as he teasingly kissed her down the inside of her legs, taking his sweet time. Him and that mouth. _That mouth_. That brash, aggressive mouth that new more witty retorts, vulgar vocabulary and sexual innuendo then any other mouth Claire had ever encountered. _That mouth_ was inching further and further downwards …

"I knew you could get dirty," he growled. Claire challenged him.

"If I want to get dirty, you want to get clean."

If you'd been some bystander standing in the halls of the first floor of Shermer High that day, at around eleven-thirty, you would've stopped in your tracks. You would've stopped to listen to what was undoubtedly the shrill sound of Claire Standish crying out "_JOHN_!" in unabashed ecstasy.

"Are you all right?" puffed John, resurfacing. He'd finished. He was looking down at Claire's face, breathing heavily. Claire was breathing heavily as well, her cheeks bright scarlet. She felt like she was floating up off the table … up to the ceiling …

"Claire!" John tried again, giving her a shake.

She gazed up at him, grinning widely. "You said my name. You never say my name."

"First time for everything."

Needing to kiss him again, Claire reached up and seized John's head, bringing him down to her lips. He groaned into the back of her throat, and then said, "you know, you nearly crushed my skull with your legs a minute ago."

"Sorry," Claire apologised, stroking his hair.

"That's the second time you've done that to me."

This was true. Claire had given John's head a solid squeeze last Saturday with her thighs, when he first tried to hike his head under her skirt. This time was different, however. This time it was something she couldn't possibly refrain from. Clenching her legs tight, arching her back and calling out his name … she never thought she'd be the girl who called out the guy's name.

They both stared at one another, forehead-to-forehead … questioning with their eyes: _should we or shouldn't we?_ John was still on his feet, bending over her. Claire sensed he was eager to join her on the table …

"Claire," he whispered, brushing their lips together.

"Uh huh?" Claire panted.

"I … "

Footsteps. The sound of purposeful, striding footsteps belonging to Principal Vernon could suddenly be heard from outside, followed by his booming voice –

"I've got to get back to the library to check on Bender. Make sure he's not jacking off in there or something."

"Yeah, while thinking of you," John murmured from inside the closet, making Claire giggle.

"Okay Dick," said Carl, who was standing right outside the closet door where Claire and John were hiding. They heard Vernon stride off down the hall to the left, just as Carl said, "if I was John Bender and I wasn't in library, I'd move my ass quick."

And with that, Carl walked away in the other direction. Claire sat upright from the table.

"John, you've got to go back!"

"Can you believe Carl?" grinned John, highly impressed. "Sure is the eyes and ears of the institution!"

"John! Please, you have to go."

"Yeah yeah," droned John. "It's cool, don't stress. Dick's going the long way, I can make it back to library before he gets there."

"Then _go_!"

"What? You're worried I'm gonna get another detention?"

"It's not like I want you to go," said Claire, who couldn't help but sound sad. "Or that I want me to go right now."

"You're leaving?"

"Have to. Gotta meet Del – my friend."

"How are you getting out of here?"

"Figured I could sneak into the office and use the phone. Call a taxi."

John nodded. "Won't be any fun without you … "

"Isn't there anybody else in detention to mess around with?" Claire teased. "Besides Vernon."

"Nope," said John. "Just me today. Must've been a slow week."

Bracing themselves, John opened the closet door looking left then right; making sure the coast was clear. Not a dot on the landscape. He turned back to Claire.

"You should stay here about five minutes. Wait, and then go."

"Okay."

Before making a run for it, John grasped the back of Claire's neck and kissed her passionately. "Let's do this again some time."

Claire couldn't agree more.

Seven minutes later, with her jacket and handbag in hand and her boots on her feet, Claire opened the door to the closet and headed out.

It was a quarter to twelve. Honestly Claire would've much preferred to stay at school today instead of seeing Del … waiting in the closet for another round with John.

Sitting in the closet before, waiting, Claire realised her underwear was missing. Then she realised, with a roll of her eyes, that John must have pocketed them. Typical! It felt so strange to be walking around without any underwear on.

Claire had every intention of going to the office to use the phone and call a taxi, but as she passed the library she suddenly jumped against the wall and almost shrieked in fright. The door had burst open, with Principal Vernon storming out in a rage.

"Fucking _maggot_!"

She stayed plastered against the wall, with her hand over her mouth. Vernon was so furious he walked straight past without even noticing her. When he was out of sight, Claire lowered her hand from her mouth and exhaled.

"Freak," she muttered, wondering what John had said to Vernon this time to make him so mental.

And that's when Claire got a very wicked idea …

"_Claire_!" John blurted out, almost tipping backwards in his seat.

He must've expected to see Vernon walk back into the library, when he heard the sound of the door open and close. When he saw it is was Claire instead, John's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Claire, what are you doing? Vernon'll be back!"

But Claire didn't say a word. She was determined to do this – even though she didn't know what the _hell_ she was doing! She was determined, and she wanted to do it fast before she chickened out and changed her mind.

"_Claire_!" John repeated, more forcefully as she marched towards the desk where he was sitting. "Cherry, sweets, princess, are your ears working – WO!"

With her jacket and handbag tossed under the desk and Lisa's berry flavoured condom clasped firmly in her left hand, Claire straddled John hard in his seat and unzipped his fly. Then, kissing him fervently, she dipped her free hand inside his pants.

"_Ah_!" John groaned hoarsely, his breath speeding up.

Maneuvering quickly, Claire shifted from John's lap and knelt down to the floor beneath the desk. Then she tore the condom wrapper open.

"_Aaaah_!"

John threw his head back and clutched Claire's hair.

The library door suddenly opened again. Vernon was back!

"Oh fuck me," John grumbled, trying to keep a straight face. Claire continued doing what she was doing.

"Bender, why did you call out just now?"

"Call out, Dick?" said John, his voice slightly higher then normal. "I didn't call out … "

"_Principal Vernon_ mister, don't test me. I heard you yell out something!"

John shook his head no, gritting his jaw tight and sucking in his breath. He banged his fist on the table, closing his eyes and groaning, "oh man!"

"What's wrong with you?" Vernon demanded, scrutinizing him harshly. "What, what is wrong with you!"

"Indigestion, sir," John struggled to answer, his eyes watering. "Do you think you could run out and get me an antacid?"

"_What_!"

"Ah, Dick?"

It was Carl, standing in the library doorway.

"Dick, can I speak to you out here for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure Carl," said Vernon, eyes still on John. He pointed at him warningly and said, "we'll deal with this soon, Bender."

"Can't wait!"

Vernon disappeared, and John couldn't hold on any longer. He collapsed onto the desk, eyes going to the back of his head as he let rip a long, guttural moan of release. He was sated. Panting like he'd run a lap around the school, but sated.

Claire emerged from beneath the desk, standing on her feet. John didn't move from the table. He was still panting like crazy.

_I've killed him!_

"John?" she whispered. "John – agh!"

Displaying some wrestling moves that could've matched Andrew, John sprang from his seat and wrapped his arms around Claire, pinning her to the floor. He then proceeded to kiss her like a maniac, on her lips and all over her face. Claire was in fits of laughter. John was going on as if she'd just told him he'd won the lottery and Vernon was moving to Afghanistan.

"You just did that," he said in disbelief, showering her with kisses. "You really just did that!"

"I know!"

"Why?"

Claire shrugged, not knowing what to say. "I felt like it?"

"In front of Vernon?"

"_Behind a desk_ in front of Vernon," Claire clarified.

After they'd calmed themselves, John gazed down at Claire silently. Claire tried to decipher what he was thinking. That intense look in his eyes … so intimate, like she was lying under him naked. She felt her skin tingling with pins and needles.

"You surprise me," he said finally. "I never knew a girl who could surprise me like you do."

"I'm a little surprised as well," Claire confessed.

"By the way, what is thing I've got on?"

"A berry flavoured condom," said Claire, slightly shy. Like she had any reason to be shy now! John smirked.

"My member looks like a popsicle … "

Saying goodbye wasn't easy, but Claire needed to leave fast before Principal Vernon made a second appearance. If he realised what was going on right under his nose, he was likely to condemn her to detention for the rest of the school year with John. Not that that was _all_ bad …

"Hey!" John called to her, right before she walked out the library door. "See you Monday?"

"And every other day," said Claire, giving him one last smile before heading back out into the school.


	5. Part Five: Temperature Rising

**8.**

**Monday – Friday,**

**April 2nd – April 6th**

"_She's only a tease if what she does gets you hot … "_

– _John Bender_

The stakes had been raised.

If the attraction between Claire and John was hot before, that following week at school things were nothing short of sizzling. Claire was _consumed_ with John, whether she was in his presence or not. Del had been quick to notice her friend Claire really wasn't herself Saturday afternoon – _not_ that Claire had been herself for days.

"Your tongue's blue," she'd commented, when she and Claire went shopping at the mall and stopped for a coffee. "What have you been sucking on?"

Claire spat up some of her latte after Del said this and tried not to choke. She was thankful neither Harvey or Lisa were there that day. Del accepted Claire's 'berry cough drop' excuse without suspicion. Then again, who would ever guess Claire Standish had just given John Bender a blow job three hours ago with Principal Vernon in the same room?

Now it was Monday morning – five minutes before class. Shermer High was abuzz with students and the usual activity. Claire was walking down the hallway with her entourage; and John with his, coming in the opposite direction. Claire and John's eyes met for the first time since their encounter in the library. Claire felt her blood race as John gave her a knowing, lingering smirk.

_We've got a secret. We've got a secret._

If they were any hotter for eachother they would've set off the fire alarm.

"That Bender guy was gawking at us again. He should take a picture!" remarked Harvey, appalled. Claire barely registered her.

One notable change to Claire's thoughts in terms of John was that she now thought of him with a penis. Yes, of course she always knew John had a penis! But it wasn't something she went around reflecting upon. It made the prospect of having sex with John seem ever more real …

_Great. I bet everything today is going to remind me of penises and sex! I dread to think what Freud would say if he saw into my brain right now …_

But it wasn't just the temperature between Claire and John that was on the rise. Chicago had been experiencing an unexpected heat wave as of Sunday.

"Unusual weather we're having for this time of year, huh class?" said Mrs Phillips, perky as ever, who apart from teaching the occasional sex education class also taught Biology. Claire lazily rested her head against her hand, eyes drooping. She could tell it was going to be a slow morning.

Actually, apart from the stolen hours Claire spent with John in some dark corner, it had been a slow week in general. The warm temperature hung around until after Friday. School and homework was ten times more boring then normal, and Claire's friends were dull and … dare she say, conceited? Lunch on Friday had been the worst, at Prom Committee. Surrounded by the most popular girls in school: Harvey Crawford, Lisa Lundy, Del Gillies, Stephanie Nelson, Kathy Richer … Lori Mathis, Barbara Tanner, Vicky O'Donnell and so on. They were all carbon copies of the other, wearing their designer threads and talking about shopping, parties, Homecoming and of course, Prom.

_Is this who I am?_ Claire didn't know any more. Being with them made her feel … empty. She realised she'd been feeling this way a long time. Even before the Breakfast Club.

It had been interesting the day before, on Thursday morning. Claire was shutting her locker, smiling because she'd just read John's latest message to join him the janitor's closet at lunch. She was heading to her first class when she was suddenly stopped in her tracks by Harvey, Lisa and Del … and Todd Dale.

"Claire, this is Todd!" said Harvey in showy voice, as if she were presenting Claire with an item of clothing she'd had her eye on for weeks.

"Eh, hi," said Claire.

"Hi," said Todd.

Harvey and Lisa grinned like dorks. Del on the other hand looked uncomfortable, sensing Claire's discomfort. Todd was also uncomfortable. Harvey had probably pounced on the poor guy unawares and dragged him over to Claire against his will.

"Todd was just talking about you!" Harvey lied. "Well, we gotta go. You guys chat, bye!"

"Bye!" said Lisa happily, walking off after Harvey. Del followed them, but not before giving Claire an apologetic look.

"Um … walk you to class?" said Todd gruffly, nervous.

"Okay," Claire accepted. It'd be rude to turn him down.

Todd was a nice guy, Claire came to realise. Not as full himself as she had originally thought. How ideal it would be, Claire wondered as he escorted her to class, if the two of them dated? They certainly looked the part – and according to Claire's friends, looking the part was all that mattered in this world. They'd be the stars of the school! Todd was tall, broad-shouldered, good bone structure … too much gel in his hair, but other then that he was a near perfect ten.

_But he's no John Bender. _

Claire and Todd saw John, funnily enough, along their way. John was in the hall talking with one of his friends and a girl. Claire observed the girl from afar as they walked towards them: long black hair with a bright red streak dyed in the front, threadbare jeans and a black leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Her name was Tatum Greer. Claire recognised her from Art. She was like one of the girls in John's wallet: streetwise, punk rock chicks. Tatum laughed, putting her hand on John's arm. When John noticed Claire and Todd approaching, his focus fastened securely on them.

It was a pivotal moment: Claire with a guy who was 'perfect' for her, and John with a girl 'perfect' for him. Claire and John both eyed eachother off – jealous.

"Claire?" said Todd, after they were past them. "Something wrong? Did you know that guy?"

"Huh?" said Claire abruptly, attention back to Todd. "No – I mean, sort of. It doesn't matter."

It was also _very_ interesting later on, during Claire and John's scheduled meeting in the janitor's closet. Interesting and … volatile. It was their first disagreement since the day they first met.

"Who was that girl?"

Claire cut straight to the chase, not wasting any time. John knew it was coming.

"Why do you care?" he said cruelly.

"Why do I _care_?" Claire repeated, eyes squinted. "Fine! If that's the way you feel about it, I'll just leave then."

She made to leave, but John blocked the way.

"What about you and Captain Jockstrap?" he retorted, talking right into Claire's face.

"Pardon?"

"He's a dreamboat, isn't he?" said John, fluttering his eyelashes stupidly. "Exactly the kind of guy you wanna bring home to mom and dad. Not to mention a real fine choice for Prom!"

"You're insane!"

"Are all the richies happy now? Wetting their panties 'cause you've got the hots for the high school quarterback? It couldn't be more fucking perfect!"

"_I don't have the hots for Todd_!" Claire asserted angrily. "The first time I ever had a conversation with him was today! And what about you, you hypocrite? Are you with Tatum Greer or something?"

"Wow. You know somebody's name outside your own clique!" said John, exaggerating his shocked reaction. "I'm deeply moved, really."

"We take Art together, shithead! So are you with her or not?"

"Well, considering Tate and I are first _cousins_, the answer would have to be a big fat no. This isn't the south we're living in."

"Cousins?" said Claire, in a considerably smaller voice.

"That's right, pinky. Cousins!"

They were both perspiring, brought on by a combination of factors: the stuffiness of the janitor's closet, the heat of the day … and the heat generating from their own bodies.

"I only see you," John mumbled awkwardly, looking at the floor. Claire didn't quite hear him.

"What?"

Now John looked to the ceiling, frustrated.

"I said I only see you!"

He stared into her eyes and then away, uncomfortable with the intimacy these words brought. The diamond earring in his left ear caught the light; winking at her. John hadn't removed it since the day Claire had first given it to him, when she placed it in the palm of his hand.

Claire waited a moment, before uttering, "I only see you, too."

And that was that. Argument over.

John moved Claire up against the wall. Claire blissfully shut her eyes, savoring the feeling of John's hands unbuttoning her shirt and his lips kissing her all down her front. One of his hands snaked up her back, unclipping her bra …

'Flashes' of the last four days played out vaguely before Claire's closed eyes. _Monday_. They met behind the tree at the back of the school. Claire boldly sunk her hand into John's pants, after which he responded by shoving his head up her skirt. That was the second time he'd pocketed her undies. _Tuesday_. They met in the room where John took shop class. It was the first time Claire let John lie on top of her, right next to the power drill on one of those long wooden tables. Both of them fully clothed, she wrapped her legs around his waist … letting him move against her. The power drill nearly plummeted to the floor. _Wednesday_. Claire only saw John during last half of lunch because Harvey and the others were becoming too questioning about Claire's frequent absences. Hence, she and John had a fast interlude at their favourite tree, and then again in the closet where they'd met last Saturday (Claire had surprised John, stealing his hand in the middle of the hallway when nobody was watching; dragging him inside the closet before last period. He didn't complain).

"_Ah_!" Claire moaned, back in the present. Her undies had been removed – predictably. Probably never to be seen again. John's hand between her thighs was taking her over the edge …

"Ah _ah_!" she moaned one last time, head thrown back and pelvis thrust forward. She could feel sweet dripping down her collar bone and bare chest. When she saw John's face, she saw he was sweating at the brow. He wasn't wearing his usual red flannel shirt or denim jacket today, just a plain black T-shirt.

"Well," said John, running his hands through his hair. "That's one way to cool off."

"Are you kidding me?" Claire panted, putting her bra back on and doing up the buttons on her shirt. "I'm so sweaty I look like I've just jumped into a swimming pool. What am I going to tell everyone?"

"Just tell them you were having wild animal sex in the closet."

"Yeah right," Claire smirked. "And Vernon wants to adopt you and take you Disneyland."

John laughed, impressed. "Nice! Very nice. Fingers crossed Dick finally asks me this weekend during detention."

"Speaking of this weekend and wild animal sex … "

Claire knew that sentence would spark his attention. John's eyes suddenly widened; pupils dilated. Claire went on.

"You know how I said I couldn't see you this Saturday at detention because of some stupid family thing I have to go to?"

"Yeah … "

"Well, turns out my parents are going away that night. They won't be back 'til Monday. I thought maybe you could stop by the house some time. Stay over even … "

It was the invitation they'd both been aching for.

"Are you sure?" he asked her seriously, hands caressing her waist. Claire nodded.

"Wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

It was settled. After school, Claire wrote down her address and number on a piece of paper and slipped it inside John's locker. He would be at her house at eight o'clock Saturday night. Claire would be counting down the minutes until then.

**9.**

**Saturday, April 7th**

"_My god, are we gonna be like our parents?"_

– _Andrew Clark_

Unfortunately, Claire had spent the remainder of Thursday in gym clothes – to the horror of her friends. Claire lied and told them she'd spilled drink all over her shirt and skirt. Even _more_ unfortunately, Claire didn't see John at all on Friday, thanks to Prom Committee and their agreement to keep a lower profile.

But Saturday had, at last, arrived. All Claire had to do was make it through the day.

It was her aunt Pat's birthday. Lucky for her aunt it was a sunny and unusually warm day, because the celebration was held outdoors at the country club. There's no need to go into the details of the festivities, it was just a bunch of relatives coming at Claire from every angle. All of them gushing about how beautiful and grown up she was – the very image of her mother. This made Claire thoroughly depressed.

Claire's mother, Maggie, was a former Miss America finalist back in 1953. Her dream after high school was to marry someone successful, and she accomplished this by marrying a young hotshot lawyer named Graham Standish. Maggie wasn't around much when Claire was a kid. She was always travelling overseas or attending some party or event. Claire was mainly raised by her older brother and the family's live-in maid, Sophia. 'Sophie', as Claire liked to call her. Everybody thought Maggie Standish was so perfect, so privileged. Nobody knew how close Claire's parents were to divorce, and that her supposedly 'perfect' mother drunk herself to sleep almost every night. It made Claire's stomach turn, how she had tried to be like her mother all this time. Pretty, popular … _pristine_. She wondered if the Breakfast Club and John Bender hadn't come into her life if she'd still be that way.

_John. John's coming to my house tonight!_

It was the only thing keeping Claire going. Her salvation. _God, get me the fuck out of here …_

The party was over by the late afternoon, and Claire and her parents drove straight home so that Mr and Mrs Standish could pack for their weekend away. They were off to some golf retreat thing with a bunch of their snobby friends. It was seven o'clock by the time they finally left. Claire was more then glad to be rid of them. She watched them drive away in her dad's BMW, until they reached the end of the street and disappeared round the corner. Then she turned and went back inside.

_One hour. _

That one hour spent waiting for John was one of the longest hours of Claire's life! She decided to stay dressed in her baggy 'around the house' grey shirt, along with a pair of jeans and her pink slippers. Other then the crucial decision of what to wear, there wasn't much else to do but wait. Claire simply wondered about the empty house, feeling light on her toes. Enjoying in the silence and the space. Even though it was a big house, her parents constant arguing and mind games often made it feel like a cage. They lived in an old, beautiful stately home. Four stories high with a huge back yard, a swimming pool and a flat for Sophie. Claire was a little embarrassed about John seeing the way she lived first hand. She hoped he wouldn't give her a hard time about it.

Eight o'clock. No sign of him.

Claire sat on the sofa in the sitting room, so she could see out the window to the front gate. She tried reading a magazine, but ended up staring outside most of the time. Searching for him.

Eight-thirty … Quarter to nine … Nine o'clock.

She had come in through front door, after standing at the gate for ten minutes looking up and down the darkened street in vain. Now back inside, Claire's mind was reeling. There was no way John would stand her up, he wanted this as much as she did. Could he be lost? If he was lost, why didn't he try calling her? Maybe he had lost the piece the paper she'd given him? Or maybe he was still on his way … this was her gut feeling.

In that instant the doorbell rang, signalling his arrival.

"_John_!" Claire exhaled, opening the front door again with haste.

As she walked across the patio, Claire played out in her mind what she'd say to him. _"Shithead! How could you keep me waiting like that?"_ she'd joke, and then lead him inside by the hand. Perhaps they'd go straight upstairs …

But as she drew closer to the front gate, where John stood waiting for her on the other side of the iron bars, Claire realised something was wrong.

"John?" she said, quickening her pace. "John, are you all right?"

She unlocked the gate and opened it. John gazed at her, bleary-eyed. The right side of his face was covered in blood.

"Claire?"

He sounded disorientated, as if trying to sense his way through a thick haze of smoke. "Claire? Did I make it?"

Claire screamed as he swayed forward and collapsed at her feet.


	6. Part Six: Resting Place

**10.**

**Saturday, April 7th (Part Two)**

"_It's about the size of a cigar... do I stutter? You see, this is what you get_

_in my house when you spill paint in the garage."_

– _John Bender_

_The front door … just get him through the front door. Don't look at the blood …_

John laughed as he hit the ground, completely off his face. Claire managed to get him on his feet, putting his arm round her shoulder and dragging his weight across the patio to the front door. John's head was bent far back, staring up to the night sky. "I'm so fucked up!" he cackled to the stars, like a madman. "I'm so fucked up … "

He collapsed again once they were inside. Claire let go of him a moment to shut the door, causing his arm to slide off her shoulder.

"_No_!" she screeched, hands covering her mouth in shock as he tumbled down. Now John's body lay sprawled out on the white marble floor of the foyer. He wasn't laughing any more. He wasn't doing anything …

Claire couldn't make herself move. John was lying there, not moving.

_He's not moving_.

The voice in her head was barely audible over the sound of her heartbeat. She felt dizzy … removed from reality. Blood from John's face was smeared on the marble. Claire thought pointlessly how red it was against the white, and how Sophie had only mopped the floor clean the night before.

_He's not moving_.

"John?" she whimpered, taking her hands away from her mouth. She tried again, more firmly. "John?"

He coughed. Claire screamed in fright, hands flying to her mouth again. He coughed twice more, groaning and rolling his head from side to side. A wave of relief swept over Claire, making her light headed. Feeling her limbs burst to life she rushed to John's side and knelt beside him.

"John!" she said urgently, cupping his face. "John, can you hear me?"

With his face in her hands, she saw he had a bad cut sliced across his right eyebrow. He groaned again, eyes slowly opening and closing. He focused on her briefly … sad and beaten down. Unable to fight any more.

He passed out.

"_Claire_! Señorita, what has happened?"

The shock of finding Claire standing at the door of her flat, with blood on her hands, almost gave Sophie a near heart attack.

"Sophie! It's okay, it's not my blood," Claire reassured her, before proceeding to speak very quickly. "It's my friend's blood. He's inside! He's been hit in the face really bad. You have to help me, I don't know what to do! He's unconscious!"

Sophia Perez's flat was separate to the main house, located out back beyond the swimming pool. Without changing from the lavender dressing gown she'd been wearing, she chased Claire across the backyard and inside. The last thing Claire wanted to do was disturb her on her day off, but Claire remembered Sophie used to be a registered nurse. She was the one who put the bandaids on Claire's scraped knees as a child, or took her temperature when she was ill. Her parents were never available for things like that.

"In here," said Claire, leading Sophia to the foyer.

John hadn't moved. Mimicking what Claire had done earlier, Sophie knelt beside John and cupped his face.

"What is his name?" she asked Claire.

"John," Claire answered.

"John!" Sophie called to him, to which John groaned very lightly. Sophie looked up at Claire.

"Claire, can you please bring the first aid kit? It's in the kitchen."

Claire left and brought the first aid kit back. Sophie then cleaned up John's face and dabbed antiseptic on his wound. John didn't even flinch.

"The cut is not too deep," said Sophie, taping a cotton swab over John's right eyebrow with medical tape. "He will not need stitches."

"But … " uttered Claire, who'd been standing over them the entire time. "He was bleeding so much."

"Nothing bleeds like the head, Señorita."

Now that Sophie had wiped all the blood from his face and concealed his wound, John did look significantly better.

"He _will_ be all right," Sophie assured Claire, who hadn't accepted everything was okay just yet. "Señorita, go upstairs and clean up. I will handle this."

Nodding vaguely, Claire stepped past Sophie and John and up the plush spiral staircase towards her bedroom on the second floor. Once there, she dashed for her ensuite bathroom and locked herself inside. Her heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears as she rolled up the sleeves of her grey shirt. Her hands shook as she washed them over the sink.

It wasn't the sight of John's blood on her hands that did it, or the sight of his watered-down blood gurgling through the holes of the drain. For some reason it was the sight of a single, red drop on the tip of her pink slipper that pushed her. Claire heaved, on the verge of vomiting. She dived for the toilet, flipped the lid and spewed some of the contents of the chicken salad she'd eaten for dinner. Afterwards she wiped her mouth with toilet paper and leaned against the wall to rest. And to cry.

Fifteen minutes later, Claire had resurfaced. She was newly dressed in mint green pajamas and a pair of socks on her feet – the one's she usually wore to bed. Peering over the railing of the staircase as she walked back down to the foyer, she was shocked to discover John wasn't there.

"Sophie!" Claire called out, speeding down the last set of stairs. Sophie was wiping the stained marble with a wet rag. "Sophie, where's John?"

"In the bathroom, Señorita. He is okay, I promise!"

"How'd he get in the bathroom?"

"I put him there. He's in the tub, safe and sound. We couldn't leave him lying here all the night, could we?"

Amazing. Sophie had pulled John all the way across the foyer and into the downstairs bathroom. She may be a small woman over the age of fifty, but her strength was not to be underestimated. "It's my Peruvian blood!" she told Claire one time. "We are like ants. We can carry three times our own weight if we have to. Or more."

Claire followed Sophie into the downstairs bathroom. John was lying in the tub; mouth slightly open, asleep. Two pillows were supporting his upper back and head, and a raw steak was strategically placed over his right eye.

"He's going to have quite a bruise come morning," said Sophie to Claire, in reference to the steak on John's eye. "Whoever hit him hit him good."

Over a cup of hot tea in the kitchen, Claire explained to Sophie who John was. Without going into too many details.

"So he is your boyfriend, no?" Sophie enquired, interested. She'd never known Claire to have a boyfriend before.

"He's … " Claire struggled to answer. She hadn't worked out if John was her boyfriend or not. It sounded so … regular. Claire's relationship with John was anything but 'regular'. "He's like a boyfriend, I guess," Claire answered in the end, taking a sip of tea.

"But you care for him?"

That wasn't difficult to answer.

"Yes. I care about him a lot."

_More then anything. So much it scares me …_

"And this is the first time he's come over?"

"Yes! It's definitely the first time."

"And he was over here … because?"

They'd reached the most difficult point of the discussion. Claire didn't want to lie … not that she needed to anyway. Sophie had more or less figured it out.

"Señorita," she began. "I am not your mother. I cannot tell you what to do. But have you thought about this? _Really_ thought about it? Are you sure you are ready?"

"I'm eighteen in September!"

"That is not what I asked. Are you ready, Claire?"

_How does anyone ever know if they're ready?_

"I'm ready," she concluded, sounding certain.

Claire hated putting Sophie in this position, and to her overwhelming relief and gratitude Sophie simply told her to be careful. Claire had always been responsible in Sophie's eyes – a 'good girl'. She trusted her. As Claire walked Sophie to the door of her flat, Sophie asked if she knew who had beaten John up.

"His dad. His dad beats him up … "

Before Sophie said goodnight, she told Claire she was leaving early tomorrow morning to meet a friend, and that she wouldn't be back until late.

"You call me if you need me, Señorita!" she said to Claire, handing her a piece of paper with a number on it. "For anything at all."

"Thank you, Sophie," said Claire, taking the piece of paper. "Thank you for everything."

Going back inside, Claire went to check on John in the bathroom. There was no change. She suspected he'd be out until morning. Claire took a blanket from the linen cupboard and gently placed it over him. Then, not wanting to be too far away, she set up a pillow and blanket on the sofa in the sitting room and eventually fell asleep.

**11.**

**Sunday, April 8th **

"_Look at him, he's a bum. You wanna see something funny? You go visit_

_John Bender in five years! You'll see how god damned funny he is!_

– _Richard Vernon_

It was early in the morning. Tired, Claire rolled over on the sofa, facing the door. It was open. Through half-open eyes, she figured she saw a 'shadow' there … watching her. Then he was gone. She heard his footsteps on marble floor of the foyer walking away.

Then, suddenly, the memory of last night hit her like a blow to the head. Claire sat up, wide awake. It wasn't a dream – it was John! She leapt off the sofa and went after him.

"John?" she called, searching. "John, where are you?"

He'd gone in the direction of the kitchen. When she got there, Claire couldn't see him. On instinct she turned to the glass doors leading out to the backyard. One of the doors was open. John was outside; his back to her, overlooking the pool. Claire cautiously walked over to him.

It was cold outside; the sky overcast. Last week's heat wave had come and gone.

"John?" said Claire delicately. "It's cold out here, come inside."

John didn't face her. Claire was seeing John at the very moment he hated being seen by anyone. Without the bravado, without the tough exterior to guard him …

When he did turn around, he didn't meet Claire's eyes all the way. Claire sensed how much he would like to be a figment of her imagination right now. To be invisible … but he wasn't. He was here, and whether he liked it or not he needed her help.

"John, it's okay. Just come inside."

She took a step forward, and then stopped abruptly. John shot her a fierce glare; his eyes bloodshot, the right eye sporting a nasty bruise. _Keep away_ was the message, loud and clear. Claire felt as if she was trying to approach an escaped wild animal. John was breathing heavily, practically snorting with each breath. He was about to explode – Claire could feel it. It was exactly like the time in detention when Andrew told John he was lying about being abused at home by his dad. Angry, John had thrust his bare arm in Andrew's face and forced him to look at his cigar burn.

"_Do I stutter_?" John spat viciously. Andrew turned away in shame.

John went mental after that. He stalked away from them, roaring violently as he threw a pile of library books on the floor and climbed onto a desk. Claire watched in awe as he pulled himself up onto the staircase hanging overhead; swinging himself over the railing where he sat down – hard. Then he pressed his third eye against the white railing, taking a moment to cool off. Claire had never seen anyone so angry before …

_He needs to cool off_ thought Claire, back in the present. Going with her instincts, Claire marched over to John and pushed him into the pool.

Like a cork in water, John sprung up and flicked his wet hair from side to side. He was still breathing heavily … chest rising and falling. Black eyes staring up at Claire. Angry, confused, hurt … so many things all at once. Then he let it all go – roaring into the air like an enraged lion. Cursing and punching the water with his fists. Claire had never heard so many colourful variations of the word 'fuck'. When it seemed like he was calming down, Claire dived into the water after him.

"_Guh_!" she sighed, as she rose to the surface. The water was warmer then she'd expected – warmer then outside, anyway. John had swum to the side of the pool where it was more shallow, panting. Exhausted. Claire swam over to him, and without saying a word or even looking into his eyes for permission, she hugged him. Her heart broke as she felt his face cave into the crook of her neck, and his arms lace around her middle. Holding her more tightly then she'd ever been held in her life.

After they got out of the pool, Claire showed John to the spare bedroom where he crashed for the rest of the morning. It used to be her brother's room, before he left home. After high school, Christopher Standish _had_ meant to go to Harvard Law, but he changed his mind at the last minute and went to work and travel in Europe instead. That was eight years ago. Now he was living in Paris with his girlfriend and working as a musician. It drove Claire's dad ballistic, but Claire had nothing but admiration for Chris. It was her dream to go visit him one day.

Drying off in Chris's bathroom, John changed into one of Chris's old t-shirts and a pair of his navy sweatpants. Lucky they were both the same size. After that, he went straight for the bed where he fell asleep almost immediately. Completely expelled of all his energy. As he slept, Claire left a glass of water for him on the bedside table. Then, making sure the curtains were drawn, Claire went back downstairs.

At midday she returned to check on him. He remained asleep. Moving as quiet as a mouse, Claire put a plate of toast on the bedside table next to the water, John snoring all the while. Unable to fight the urge to be close to him, Claire slipped under the blankets on the other side of the bed. She was wearing her fluffy white dressing gown. John spluttered awake, turning around to face her.

"Sorry!" Claire apologised in the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay," John whispered tiredly, yawning. "Come here."

Claire fell into his arms, smiling. She'd always wondered what it was like to have a guy in bed bedside you. Catching his yawn, she felt so relaxed she could almost fall asleep herself.

"Don't try to kiss me, all right?" he said to her, with his chin resting on the top of her head. "I'm pretty sure my breath smells like ass."

Claire laughed. At least he was making jokes. "That's why I'm down here," she said, speaking against his chest.

They were like that for about ten minutes. Then John announced, "okay. I'm hungry!"

"I was waiting for you to say that," said Claire, as they sat up. "There's some toast on the table over there. And some water."

John guzzled the water and scoffed the toast. Still hungry, Claire took him down to the kitchen where he proceeded to raid the pantry of food. Setting himself up at the kitchen table, John feasted on a bowl of cereal, some more toast, and a coffee. When he was done, he went back upstairs to have a shower. Claire eventually met up with him again out back. John had seated himself on the brick steps leading down from the glass doors, smoking a cigarette. He was wearing his signature grey coat over Chris's clothes. Claire sat beside him.

_Silence_. John smoked, Claire sat. Claire knew if John wanted to discuss anything, _he_ would bring it up. She wouldn't push him.

"I was late, wasn't I?" he said at first, gruffly. Staring at the smoke rising from the cigarette between his fingers. "Last night, I mean."

"Yeah," said Claire, keeping it simple.

"I didn't mean to be late. Things didn't go according to plan … "

More silence. A minute later, he turned towards her and said: "How the hell did I end up in your bathtub?"

Claire couldn't help but smile. "Our maid put you there, Sophie," she told him. "She's pretty strong. She fixed your head as well."

Claire made a gesture to John's hurt eyebrow. John nodded, then turned away from her again, staring into space.

"I'm … sorry," he said, struggling with the word 'sorry'. It wasn't a word he used too often.

"For what?"

"For being here."

"John, you're supposed to be here! I invited you."

John glared at Claire as if she were nuts. "You didn't want me here like this, sweets! High out of my mind and blood all over my face. Admit it."

"That's not your fault," said Claire, her voice soft.

"Yeah, well … being high was," said John with a shrug. "Shit, I don't even remember driving to your house! I don't know how the fuck I wound up here."

_So he did drive here_ Claire thought. She'd seen a bomb of a car parked halfway down her street earlier that morning, while John had been sleeping in the spare room. Nobody in her neighbourhood owned a car like that.

"I'm glad you did," Claire said to him. "Honestly, I would've been more upset if you didn't show up at all. I don't care how you show up, as long as you do."

There was no need for John to explain what happened to him last night. Claire could use her imagination. John's dad found out John was leaving for the night … lost his temper, probably drunk at the time … beat his son up worse then usual … John drove off, smoking a joint to ease the pain …

As she thought this scenario through, she felt John tuning into her … picking up on her every thought. Maybe one day he'd tell her the details, if he felt like it. It gave her butterflies to feel so connected to somebody. That's when she knew, without expectation or forewarning.

_I'm in love with him. _

For a girl who had always avoided emotions and emotional situations like the plague, love was a lot to take in.

"Claire?" said John, staring at her. "You okay?"

_He must know_ she thought, as she looked into his eyes. John gulped, definitely picking up on something. Love wasn't an easy thing for him either, after all.

Claire stood up, holding out her hand. Praying he'd take it. "Come upstairs with me?"


	7. Part Seven: La Mariee

**12.**

**Sunday, April 8th (Part Two)**

"_I would do it though. If you love someone it's okay."_

– Allison Reynolds

Of course he took her hand. John Bender wasn't one to turn down sex.

But this wasn't only about sex. They both knew that, though they didn't speak it. As Claire led John upstairs to her room, they didn't say a word. There was no need for words.

As he entered inside, John barely took in the appearance of Claire's bedroom: the vanilla-crème walls patterned with framed pictures of classic Hollywood stars like Catherine Deneuve and Grace Kelly; the 'Flashdance' and 'Grease' movie posters, or the life-sized prints Claire had collected of famous paintings by artists like Monet and Chagall. One of the Chagall prints was called _La Mariée_. There was a silver painted chair placed neatly under a white dressing table, littered with make-up, nail polish and Claire's signature Chanel perfume. A collage of photos lined the border of her mirror … the largest being one of Claire hugging her brother, Chris. It was taken a month before he had left for Europe. Claire cried for days after he'd gone.

John barely noticed any of it. Not even the details of Claire's four poster bed, such as the worn old teddy she'd had since she was a child sitting amongst her pillows. His attention was purely and absolutely on Claire, and what they were about to do. It's funny … Claire always imagined John Bender to be the kind of guy to make the first move in this situation. But with her – at least to begin with, he was acting very cautious. As if he wasn't really allowed in her room, and she might scream at him any second now and tell him to get out.

Claire kissed him first. John responded by lacing his arms around her waist … carefully. It wasn't until he slipped his hand inside her robe and touched her bare flesh, realising she was naked, that he was cautious no more. His primal instincts took over, and he kissed her passionately and directed her towards the bed.

It was like being in dream, Claire reflected later on. Like being swept up in Chagall's _La Mariée_. Floating hazily through a romantic, imaginary sky …

_This is happening. This is _actually_ happening!_

John had shed Claire of her robe. She lay on the bed, exposed, as he took off his shirt and leant over her to kiss her lips and her skin. Moving downwards … smothering the most intimate parts of her body. Claire cried out – writhing and panting. Before she could regain consciousness she heard the faint 'crackle' of plastic. John had ripped open the seal of a condom wrapper. Claire hadn't even thought of condoms. There was, however, little time to brand herself irresponsible.

He'd removed his pants and boxers and lay fully on top of her. Claire caught her breath. It was the most thrilling feeling, having complete skin-to-skin contact with somebody else's hot, naked body. Her heart raced so fast she thought it might explode. Kissing eachother feverishly, Claire became keenly aware of John's hands smoothing down her thighs and cupping the flesh beneath her knees … lifting her legs apart. What happened next caused Claire to call out yet again – this time, in pain. She buried her head into John's neck, held tight to his back and closed her eyes. Riding it out …

It was over. He collapsed on top of her; huffing and puffing.

_I did it_ was all she could think afterwards. Stunned. _I did it, I did it …_

With a sated groan, he rolled off her and onto his side. "You all right?" he puffed. Claire rolled onto her side, facing him. There they lay – sweaty and butt-naked on top of Claire's pale blue duvet. In the heat of the moment, there hadn't been time to climb under the sheets.

"Yeah," Claire responded, smiling. Apart from feeling a little raw between the legs, she was happy. She knew they would end up here eventually. It had only been a matter of time. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Really?"

"Really."

John smirked. "Guess I won't be calling you cherry anymore, huh?"

And now they talked.

Conversation had not been a predominate part of Claire and John's relationship thus far. They'd yelled at eachother a whole lot, and they'd certainly done the physical side of things. They'd _drowned_ in the physical …

So, for the remainder of the day, the two of them lay under the covers of Claire's bed and just talked. There had to be more to John then the dope, the broken home and the smart-ass attitude. Just like there was more to Claire then the popular friends, the expensive clothes and the rich family. Claire was determined to find out if they shared anything in common. This only made John laugh. "You and I have _nothing_ in common!" he retorted, challenging her. But Claire did manage to unearth a couple of things, to John's surprise. Despite having extremely different tastes in music, they agreed they both liked Michael Jackson, and that they also both liked animals. Dogs in particular. They both wanted to travel as well. This was a reflection of the one thing they shared most in common: the desire to leave home, and to be as far away from their parents as humanly possible.

"Where would you go?" Claire asked John. "If you could snap your fingers right now and go some place else, where would it be?"

John thought about it for a second. "Dunno. Anywhere. Anywhere but my shithole neighbourhood. You? Oh wait, I know! France, right?"

"How did you know that?"

"Remember how I was calling Brian a cherry in detention? Then you said: 'I wish I was on a plane to France.'"

"Oh yeah," said Claire, recalling herself saying this. She also began to recall that entire morning in detention – the day she first met John Bender. "God I hated you … "

John laughed wholeheartedly, not offended in the slightest. "I seem to have that effect on people. So tell me princess, when exactly _did_ you stop hating me?"

"When did you stop hating me?"

"I asked you first."

"Fine!" Claire forced herself to think. "I don't know … "

"Let me rephrase," he said seductively, kissing her shoulder and speaking at the same time. "When did you _want _me?"

"When did I _want_ you?" giggled Claire, as he kissed her jawline.

"Yeah! When did you see me and think: 'Gee, I wonder what it'd be like to suck that guy's cock with Vernon in the same room?'"

"I wanted you and hated you at the same time! It was seriously annoying."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Answer the question!"

"Okay! I guess … I guess I first wanted you when you ripped up that book by Molière. And then the first time I stopped hating you was when you saved us all from getting caught by Vernon. How about you?" Claire urged him to speak. "When did you want me?"

"Same time as you," John responded, before trailing off. "Fuck I hated Andy!"

"What does Andy have to do with anything?" asked Claire, bemused.

"That dipshit was working his 'moves' on you!" John vented. "Asking you to that fucking party Saturday night like his asshole didn't stink."

"You were jealous?" murmured Claire, running a hand through John's hair. She remembered when John had started ripping that book to shreds. He was overlooking her and Andrew, who went on to ask her if she was going to Stubby's party later that evening. Claire and Andrew had been drawn to eachother initially, because they were both popular. Guys like Andrew were socially preordained to be interested in girls like Claire, and vice-versa.

"I wanted to strangle the idiot with his own jock-strap," John elaborated. He had been jealous, obviously.

Further conversation revealed, to Claire's total surprise, that John was eighteen already.

"When's your birthday then?" she asked.

"December of '65," John replied.

"So you're turning nineteen this year?"

"Yep. I repeated the fifth grade."

"How come?"

"I was a prick," said John plainly. "Got into a fuckload of trouble. Played a lot of pranks, got into fights, swore a lot … got sprung looking up my fifth grade teachers skirt."

"_That_ I can believe," said Claire with a smirk.

"It was her own fault for wearing such a short skirt in the first place."

Claire silently wished she could talk to John forever. She wished they never had to leave her bed … never had to go back to school and face the outside world. John, with his beaten face and whole 'bad boy' image was dangerously out of place in her refined, delicate bedroom. He was out of place for her entire neighbourhood, truth be told. If one of her neighbours spotted him the street, they might think to call the police. But this only made Claire love the guy all the more. She loved he didn't go with anything in her life.

As the afternoon wore on, Claire and John talked and talked … and talked some more. John seemed keen to know about Claire's childhood, while guarding the details of his own. Claire spoke mostly of her brother, Chris. They then discussed what they both wanted to do after they left school. Claire had no idea. All she wanted to do was to fly to France. John wanted to travel too, but didn't have the cash. Claire began to have the feeling, as they continued to speak, that John was stalling his inevitable departure. She wondered if it was safe for him to go home … but she was afraid to bring it up. She eyed the cigar burn on his arm. John sensed what she was thinking.

"What time do the padres get home tomorrow?" he asked her, shifting his arm away.

"In the morning some time," said Claire. "They'll probably get back after I leave for school."

After a moments silence, Claire added: "You can stay another night, if you want to."

"I did say I'd help you use your parents to get back at eachother," John smiled. Claire smiled back.

"Screw them. And everybody else! I say we keep on being a dirty little secret."

John's smile widened. "And what would daddy do, if he came home tomorrow to give his little girl a good morning kiss, only to pull back the sheets and find my rear end?"

Claire laughed raucously. "He'd probably ship me off to the nearest Catholic school!"

"Hmmm," John purred, very turned on by this idea. "Claire in a Catholic school girl's uniform? I like it. I think I should stick around 'til tomorrow night … "

He was on top of her again. Claire stiffened.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"I … I don't think I could go again," Claire said shyly, hoping he wouldn't get the wrong impression. "Today, I mean."

John let out a sigh. "It's okay," he said, kissing her. "Just tell me where it hurts … "

His head disappeared under the covers. He was now wriggling his way down her body, sending Claire into fits of laughter.

"What are you _doing_!"

"Tell me where it hurts and I'll kiss it better!"

And so John was saved from going home that night. They slept in Claire's bed, after fixing something downstairs to eat. John fell asleep first. Claire watched the outline of his body in the darkness, unable to stop feeling worried for him … and sad. Now that she'd had time to process everything, she wondered what _really_ happened to John last night. She thought about it, on and on, until it sent her to sleep. The next time she opened her eyes, it was dawn. The rising sun glowed bright orange through her window. John, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, was facing the window.

"Hey," she said dozily to him, sitting up.

He was wearing his own clothes again: the signature red flannel shirt and combat pants.

"Hey," Claire said again, hugging him from behind. She was still naked. "Morning."

"Morning," he said, without turning from the window.

"What time is it?"

"It's early. Six o'clock or something. I've gotta go … "

On that note, he stood up. Claire lifted the sheets over herself.

"You're leaving?"

There was a pause. John still wouldn't face her.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this," he said distantly.

"Into what?"

"This! Me … all of it!"

"Why are you angry?"

Now he turned to face her. John _was_ angry, but more upset then anything else. It's just that he did 'anger' so much better. Anger for John covered a whole field of emotions: sadness, hurt, insecurity …

Claire was close to tears. For some reason she suddenly felt like this was the last time she was ever going to see John again. She couldn't rationally explain why, but the fear struck her like fork of lightning.

"It's that bad, isn't it?" she said, filling the silence between them. "What happened to you … last night."

"You don't want to know," said John, blocking her off immediately. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing! It's too ugly, Claire. I … " he ran his hands through his hair and down his face. "Fuck me, I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This shit we've gotten ourselves into!"

"And what 'shit' would that be, John?"

"I don't know how to be in love with you!"

He'd blurted it out so rapidly – as if the words had been hot coals burning his mouth. Claire stopped breathing.

"This is so fucked," John proceeded nonsensically. "I've never been in love. You and me, it's like somebody's idea of a bad joke!"

"I know it's fucked," Claire interrupted him quietly, with watery eyes. "But this is the way things turned out. Are you saying … are you saying you want to end it?"

They stared eachother in the eye. John softened, and went to sit beside her again on the bed.

"No," he said seriously, head looking down at his lap. "I don't want to end it. It's just … good things don't happen to me. I don't love anybody, and nobody loves me."

"That's not true."

"It's survival … "

"I'm in love with you," said Claire, staring at him.

It was scary to say it. To hear the words 'I'm in love with you' come from her own mouth. John gazed up at her, with an expression of total bewilderment. As if to say: _is she serious or just out of her mind?_

"Like you said," Claire went on. "It's completely fucked … but I don't want to end it either."

**13.**

**Monday, April 9th**

"_Why'd you do that?"_

"'_Cause I knew you wouldn't."_

– John Bender and Claire Standish

At six-thirty that morning, Claire walked John to his car to say goodbye. Just as she would never forget the Saturday when she'd received her first orgasm, she would also never forget the night of April 8th 1984. Or the morning after.

"I have to go away for a while," John announced, before saying goodbye officially. "I probably won't be at school this week."

The same fear, about never seeing John again, suddenly struck Claire a second time. She'd sensed something like this was coming. "Go away where?"

"I have to sort out some things," he explained, continuing to be secretive. "It's messy, and I've got to do it alone."

"Are you going to be okay?" Claire asked him, her voice breaking slightly.

"Dunno," said John honestly. "Not everything in my life has been total shit lately, which is a big change. So who knows! Maybe it will be okay this time."

How was Claire going to cope, not seeing John every day at school? Wondering where he was and what he was doing? She willed herself not to cry.

"Come here," he said, embracing her. Again, he seemed to read her thoughts. "This isn't goodbye for good, Claire. I'll sneak up on you when you least expect it. Don't go replacing me with that douche Todd, all right? Or I'll tape his buns _and_ his balls together."

"Deal," Claire smiled.

John got in his car: a burnt orange, dingy volvo that looked ready to crumble in a heap. After looking at her one last time through the windshield, he drove off down the street. A dirty grey cloud of exhaust smoke trailing him all the way. Claire stood immobile and watched the back of his car until it was out of sight.

_Gone_.

The tears she'd been holding back now ran freely down her face. It was cold outside, but she didn't care. Claire didn't want to go back in the house and have him not be there. The same reason she didn't want to get dressed and go to school.

_Because John wouldn't be there._

What did he have to go away for and do on his own? Where would he go? And most importantly, how long would it take?


	8. Part Eight: Oxygen

**14.**

**Monday, April 9th**

"_When you grow up, your heart dies."_

– Allison Reynolds

Claire did not go to school that day. She felt as if there had been a rope and hook attached from her heart to the back of John's car. As he drove away, her heart went with him. This was Claire's first dose of separation anxiety. It would not be her last.

When her parents arrived home later that morning, Claire told them she was coming down with the flu. She did not tell them the truth: that her insides felt hollow because she'd had sex for the first time yesterday with the guy she loved, and now she couldn't help feeling he was gone forever.

"_This isn't goodbye for good, Claire. I'll sneak up on you when you least expect it. Don't go replacing me with that douche Todd, all right? Or I'll tape his buns _and_ his balls together."_

Lying in her bed upstairs, Claire was a basket case. She cried and cried, unable to stop the stream of awful thoughts playing in her mind. She imagined John meeting up with his burner buddies at the school parking lot; smoking a joint and bragging how he grinded pelvises with the future 'Prom Queen' last night. Like he didn't really love her at all … like his only goal was to take her virginity and then clear out.

_No_ she challenged herself. _No, he does love you! You're being an idiot, he loves you. He has to …_

The most awful thought of all was what if something were to happen to John? He'd come to Claire's house beaten up – a shell of his former self. She immediately guessed it was his dad who'd hurt him, so what if his dad was capable of doing something worse? What if –

"Claire? Señorita?"

Sophie had entered Claire's bedroom. One look at Claire's blotchy, wet face sent her over to the side of the bed.

"Sssh, calm down," she said soothingly, pulling a clean hanky from the pocket of her uniform and handing it to Claire. While still sobbing, Claire began to voice to Sophie every wretched thought in her miserable head.

"And now he's gone!" Claire blubbered sadly, wiping her face with Sophie's hanky. "John's gone, and I can't stop thinking like I'm never going to see him again. Am I going crazy?"

"You've been through a lot, Claire," Sophie began to say. "Being with a boy for the first time … falling in love for the first time."

"What if he doesn't love me anymore? What if I wasn't any good?"

"Oh, Claire!" Sophie chuckled. "It's natural to feel insecure, considering all that has happened. I think you will see this boy again. The story is not over yet."

This made Claire feel much better. She stopped sobbing.

"There, see?" said Sophie happily, stroking Claire's cheek. "You know, I have not seen you this upset since Señor Christopher left."

"Yeah," Claire agreed, thinking of her brother. "Only Chris never did come back."

"He did not leave because of you, Señorita," said Sophie, now stroking her hair. "He adores you. He would've taken you with him in his suitcase if he could."

"He did mention that at the airport before boarding his plane," said Claire, smiling a little.

Before leaving Claire alone to rest, Sophie said one last thing to her at the doorway. Something that made Claire's eyes well with fresh tears …

"Do not think all the men in your life you care about will leave you, Claire. It won't always be that way."

The rest of Claire's day was spent in bed. She did manage to cry some more, but most of the time she just lay there. Savouring John's scent lingering in her sheets.

"_Claire_!" her mother shouted from the stairs, at around three-thirty in the afternoon. "Claire honey, Del's here!"

"Send her in!" Claire shouted back lazily, forcing herself to sit up. Claire had literally not thought of Del or any of her friends for the last three days. She almost had to remind herself she _had_ friends. When she saw Del walk through her bedroom door, she felt a pang of unexpected guilt. _I really have been ignoring everyone, haven't I?_

"Hey Del," said Claire – guiltily. Del, who was wearing a long tartan skirt and a white blouse, looked Claire over.

"Hey," she said in return. "Wow, you look like crap!"

"Gee thanks," said Claire sarcastically.

"Think I'll take a seat over here," said Del, sitting at Claire's dresser across the room. "I don't want to catch the flu."

"I don't have the flu," said Claire plainly. "That's only a cover."

"You mean … you ditched school _again_?"

"I've been in bed all day. I didn't go shopping or anything!"

"Why have you been in bed all day if you're not sick?"

It was time to come clean. If it had been Harvey or Lisa who'd come to visit Claire that afternoon, Claire would've kept her mouth shut. But Del was, in reality, Claire's best friend. They'd been best friend's since kindergarten – primarily because they were the only two red heads in the class. Wherever Claire went, Del followed. When Claire became friends with the popular kids in High School in seventh grade, Del became popular by being associated with Claire.

"What's going on with you, Claire?" Del went on to ask. "You don't call, you don't see me or anybody. And even when you are around it's like you're thinking about something else the whole time. Harvey's been bitching about you to everyone … "

"I don't care about Harvey," Claire interrupted bluntly. "I don't care what she cares about any more. I'm over it!"

Del was taken aback. "Over what?"

It was then that Claire began to recount the days since detention. It took up most of the afternoon, but Del – now sitting on the edge of Claire's bed, listened to Claire's every word with rapt attention. She could hardly believe her ears …

"And yesterday," Claire continued to speak. "Was the first time we … _you know_."

"Oh," said Del, taking this in. Then she jumped up off the bed, as if it were tainted. "Oh!"

"Are you okay?" Claire asked. She hadn't seen Del so shocked before.

"But … but you said you were going to wait! Right? Until you were in love."

Claire's eyes glistened. Del knew immediately.

"Oh my gosh. You love him, don't you?"

With this understood, Del edged back down on the bed. Claire wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry I've been neglecting you, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything about John before. I didn't want anybody telling me I shouldn't be with him. I know I've screwed my reputation by getting involved with John Bender, but I really don't care!"

"Well," Del sighed, still taking in everything Claire had told her. "Guess this explains why you're not interested in Todd Dale."

"Big time," said Claire.

"I can't believe you had sex!" said Del, still in shock mode. "I mean, I always knew you'd have sex before me … but with John Bender? Claire, are you sure …"

Del bit her bottom lip, realising she was hitting a sensitive topic. "I mean, he's seems … dangerous."

Of course it was near impossible for somebody like Del to comprehend being attracted to somebody like John Bender. Del only ever went for clean-cut, church-going type guys.

"You don't know John like I do," said Claire. "He helped me … "

"Helped you how?"

"He helped me get over myself."

Puzzled, Del didn't quite know what to make of this. Claire laughed at her.

"He's really not as bad as you think!" she said. "Not to mention he's a great kisser."

Now Del looked queasy, causing Claire to laugh again.

"Del, _please_ don't tell anyone! Especially Lisa, she couldn't keep a secret to save her life. The whole school would know by Wednesday."

"Of course I won't tell," Del assured her. "If Harvey knew … "

"Please, she'd vomit her guts! As would Kathy, Lori and the rest. They'd probably prefer I was seeing a circus midget."

As a sign of good faith, Del offered to take Claire to the doctors later that afternoon, so they could get her a medical certificate to take to school the next day.

"I'll take you to my family doctor," said Del, backing out of Claire's driveway in her car. "He signs anything! And gives you any prescription drugs you want."

"Are you sure he's not a dealer?" joked Claire, who really didn't fancy another detention this Saturday – especially without John and the Breakfast Club there alongside of her.

**15.**

**Tuesday – Friday,**

**April 10****th**** – April 13****th**

_"Do you know how popular I am? I'm so popular, everybody_

_loves me so much, at this school ... "_

– Claire Standish

Tuesday at school was, in a word: _brutal_. Claire would not see John again until Friday. Nobody would see John until Friday …

In the mean time, there were three defining issues keeping Claire occupied: one, Harvey and the majority of Prom Committee were being total bitches; two, she had a stack of homework to catch up on; and three, not only had she been neglecting her 'popular' friends, but she hadn't touched base with Brian, Andrew or Allison. For two weeks she'd been completely blinded to the rest of the world.

At least she didn't have another detention. That was something to be thankful for.

"You think he's cut school for good?"

Claire and Brian were sitting together outside, on the bleachers surrounding the football field during lunch. Hardly anybody else was out there – it was too damn cold. Both of them were bundled up in their winter clothes. After Claire told Brian what happened to John on Saturday night (minus the details about them having sex the following day), Brian figured John's days at school were numbered.

"Why would you say that?" said Claire, in response to previous Brian's question.

"Think about it," said Brian, his breath clinging to the icy air like mist. "Bender despises school. Other then seeing his friends and you, there's nothing else here for him. It's not like he's here for his education! Still, it's the better option."

Claire stared out into the field as Brian spoke, thinking of detention and how John carelessly let Vernon award him eight consecutive detentions in a row. She'd tried to stop him, thinking he was mad, but it was too late. John loathed school. He _loathed_ Vernon. But Brian was right – despite all this, it was the better option. It was better then what was waiting for him at home.

"If he's not at home," Claire went on to say, "and he's not here … where is? What's he gonna do with himself now?"

Brian shrugged. "Did he ever say exactly when he was coming back?"

"No. He just said it'd be when I least expect it."

"Then stop expecting it."

"Easy for you to say! You're not in love with the dumb asshole."

Brian's head spun towards Claire, his eyes bright. "Um … did I just hear Claire Standish say the word 'love' in reference to John Bender?"

"You forgot about the words 'dumb asshole'," Claire clarified, smirking. "Who saw this coming two weeks ago, huh?"

"You're not the only one. I'm pretty sure Andy and Allison are heavily in the 'l' word ..."

"Hey, did Andy quit wrestling?" Claire had completely forgotten about this.

"You didn't hear?" Brian responded in surprise.

"Obviously! I haven't been on the planet the last few of weeks … in case nobody noticed."

She said that last part very sarcastically. In truth, _everybody_ had noticed – and it was costing Claire and her 'miss popularity' title dearly.

"Andy was meant to quit like, that week when we first met back in the library. Remember? Then he put it off until the following week … and then the next … well, you get the idea."

"What does Allison think?"

"They're a bit rocky at the moment," Brian divulged. "Andy's intentions are good. He's smart! Smart for a jock anyways."

That made Claire laugh. "Boy I wish John was around to hear you say that."

"Andy could get into a really good college if he wanted," Brian revealed, starting to sound like the school guidance counsellor. "He just needs more confidence. His whole life the only thing he's ever been told he's any good at is sports."

"Parents suck," muttered Claire, summing up their conversation with two simple words. "Are you doing okay?"

"Sure!" said Brian, going a little shy. "I'm okay."

"How did you do in shop class?"

"Great! Yeah, really good. I got an A."

"For real? Brian, that's awesome!" said Claire, beaming. Brian was chuffed.

"Thanks. It was all 'cause of Bender of course. I didn't really deserve it. He did everything, I just watched."

"What did you end up doing with the elephant?"

"It's my new bedside lamp," said Brian matter-of-factly. "I know, right? Weird. I thought I'd end up throwing it in the trash."

Tuesday … Wednesday … Thursday … _Friday_.

With each passing day, the more distance Claire felt between herself and John. While in public, she did her best to keep herself together. Underneath however, there was an ever expanding void. It was only when she was alone at night that she let herself cry.

She tried not to expect to see him – she _really_ tried. She tried not to envision John swaggering down the hallway, the only person wearing sunglasses indoors. She tried not to see him out of every window she passed, standing outside while smoking a cigarette. Sometimes she'd spy on his group of friends. On Wednesday she saw them all standing around John's locker talking in quiet, serious voices. She was dying to go over and earsdrop, but it was too risky.

On Thursday, Claire was caught up with her disintegrating relationship between Harvey and Lisa, as well as the Prom Committee. Some of them were still nice to her, but a lot of them ignored her and whispered behind her back. Nobody knew about Claire and John, but Vicky O'Donnell and Lori Mathis had spotted her with Brian Johnson that Tuesday. Harvey used this against Claire every chance she got. The only girl who stuck by Claire was Del. And … Allison Reynolds. During that week Claire had introduced Del to Allison and the two of them hit it off. Claire was now, to her pleasant surprise, part of a group of friends she actually liked for a change.

Then, on a particularly bleak Friday morning that followed a particularly bleak Thursday night … they finally crossed paths.

A letter was waiting for Claire in her locker. A letter that read, in those familiar capital letters:

'I'LL BE BEHIND THE BLEACHERS AT LUNCH. PLEASE SEE ME.'

She read it three times over. Absorbing it … the reality of holding his letter in her hand.

_He's here. He's back._

Needless to say, Claire disappeared at lunchtime that Friday. She found herself walking across the lone football field; braving the cold as she made her way towards the bleachers. As she drew near, she began feeling angry. All the things she'd been thinking, all through the week, returned to haunt her.

John had ditched her. He was seeing somebody else. He was never coming back …

She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to pound his chest with her fists and tell him he was an ass! But when she reached him, standing there alone under the bleachers in his grey jacket and red scarf, Claire's anger dissipated. She was just happy to see him at long last.

John was thinner, and there were dark circles under his eyes. There was the dried cut on his right eyebrow, accompanied by a faded bruise. But what really got Claire, more then anything else, was her diamond earring still twinkling in his ear. He hadn't removed it.

They took one look at eachother, speaking silent words … before rushing into eachother's arms. Like they hadn't see one another in twenty years.

"I've missed you so much," mumbled Claire, burying her tearful face in John's neck.

"I've missed you too," he said back to her, without reservation.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been!" Claire couldn't help herself from saying. John chuckled, cupping her face with his hands. His fingers were cold against her skin.

"That's my girl," he said, smoothing her tears away with his thumbs. His dark eyes actually watered when he saw how miserable Claire looked at him. Two weeks ago he would've run a mile from this kind of show of emotion … but something was different about him that day. Something had changed.

"Please tell me what's going on," Claire pleaded. "I can't take this much longer."

"I'll tell you, I promise," he said, lightly kissing her third eye. "Tonight. Can I come to your place? Sneak in through the window maybe?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, nodding. "But why can't you just tell me now?"

"I've gotta head off."

"_Already_? John – "

He kissed her lips, knocking the words right out of her mouth. Claire felt as if she could've melted into a puddle on the grass. Still, she wasn't going to let him get away with not talking to her.

"_John_!" she repeated herself breathlessly, pulling herself out of the kiss. It took all of her willpower to stop.

"Couldn't help myself," John confessed, his breath warm against her lips as he stared down at them. "You're like oxygen … "

"John, why do you have to leave already?"

"I'll see you tonight, okay? Trust me," he said seriously, quickly kissing her on the lips again. "Eight-thirty tonight – sharp. I'll stand on the street outside the front of your house."

"Okay," Claire relented. "But you better be there!"

"You better let me in!"

As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone once again. Claire walked sadly back to school alone … thinking how awful John had looked. Aged, even. Like he was in need of a long night's sleep. But she wouldn't have to wait long now. All she had to do was hold out for tonight.

Everything would be revealed by tonight.


	9. Part Nine: TBC

**16.**

**Friday, April 13th**

"_I don't even count, right? I could disappear forever _

_and it wouldn't make any difference ..."_

– John Bender

Friday the thirteenth.

There was a big party that night, at Harvey Crawford's house. Correction – Harvey Crawford's _mansion_. It was a 'theme' party so everybody had to wear black. Claire could imagine it now: mostly seniors would attend, plus some college people. Music playing at top notch, people diving in the pool while fully dressed in their all-black attire … and Harvey would be at the centre of it all. Had there been no John Bender, no Breakfast Club, Claire would be right there alongside her former friend mixing with the in-crowd. Batting her eyelashes at somebody like Andrew Clark or Todd Dale. Somebody her popular friends would approve of.

But there had been a John Bender, and a Breakfast Club. Claire wasn't going to leave her house for anything that night – _not_ that Harvey would want her showing up anyway. Not even a natural disaster could stir Claire from her bedroom window, as she overlooked the street outside and anxiously counted the minutes until eight-thirty.

_He was there. _

He was ten minutes late, but he was there! John was standing outside Claire's house on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette, and wearing a black leather jacket. She opened the window.

"_John_!" she hissed loudly, trying to get his attention. On the alert, John looked up to her. "The gate's open!" Claire hissed again.

Flicking his cigarette to the pavement, John came through the gate and across the lawn, until he stood directly beneath Claire's window and Claire.

"What's the best way in?" he whispered up to her.

"I can't let you in through the front door," she whispered back. "Sophie's cleaning the foyer and my mom's hanging around downstairs … could you climb up?"

"_Climb_?" echoed John incredulously. Rose-lattice trailed the wall leading to Claire's window on the second floor. "Didn't you hear? My stunt double couldn't make it tonight!"

"You said at lunch you'd sneak in through my window, remember?"

"I wasn't being literal, Claire!"

However, despite John's objection, he gripped hold of the lattice and began to climb while making comments along the way.

"So Rapunzel wants me to climb the wall, does she? … _Ouch_! … Fuck this shit!"

"I got you," said Claire, reaching down and grabbing John's arm and helping him hoist himself over the windowsill. He landed in a heap on her floor; breathing hard, lying on his back.

"You okay?" Claire asked, breathing quite hard herself.

"Peachy," huffed John. He sat up. "Any more requests? Maybe there's something on the roof you'd like me to get for you?"

"I'm sorry," apologised Claire. "There was no other way inside!"

"Don't sweat it princess, I'm only fucking with you," he said casually, as he stood up. "I've climbed a wall or two before to break into a house. 'Bout two years ago … I think it was on this street come to think of it. Large brick house on the corner, looks like a church?"

"The _Kawolski's_ house?" said Claire in plain shock. "_You_ broke into the Kawolski's house two years ago? You?"

"Me and some friends."

"Their TV was stolen!"

"I know. It's in my buddy Gavin's basement."

Claire had to bite her tongue from reprimanding him. John's colourful history of burglary was not what she was longing to hear from him that night.

"Man, I can't believe we got away with that one!" He was still talking about breaking into the Kawolski's house. He also proceeded to _inspect_ Claire's room: the framed pictures on her walls, the photos surrounding her mirror … pacing about like somebody observing rare artifacts in a museum. _The History of Claire Standish: former high school princess-snob_. John had been in Claire's room before but last time he hadn't had the opportunity to soak up the atmosphere. Claire had to fight another urge to reprimand him when he began touching her things scattered on the dressing table. He sprayed her Chanel perfume into the air and smelt it. "Oh yeah," he said with a grin. "That's you all over."

"John … "

"I was so stoned when I climbed that wall," he went on – _still_ talking about the Kawolski's house. "It was so fucking funny when – "

"_John_!"

John was avoiding talking about the very thing he was obligated to talk about. Claire could only take his evasive attitude so long.

"You owe me an explanation," she said to him softly, but sternly, as she walked up to him. John had just been observing her print of Chagall's _La Mariée_ with some interest.

"You've got so much French shit in your room … "

Claire narrowed her eyes at him. John got the hint.

"All right!" he gave in, walking towards her bed and sitting down. "But you're not gonna like it. "

_No shit._

Claire went and sat beside him patiently. In the warm glow of her bedside lamp, she noted the tired circles etched beneath John's eyes were still in tact.

"Gavin just bought a new VCR off the black market to go with that stolen TV … "

"John!" Claire was exasperated. "Would you just tell me – "

" … I should know," John went on, as if Claire hadn't interrupted. "I've been hiding out in his basement for the last week."

This made Claire go quiet. She shut her mouth and listened as John continued.

"It was routine. Well, it used to be anyways. Whenever my old man got how he gets I'd always go to Gavin's … until I was about fifteen or so. When I hit sixteen I was sick of running. I figured I'd stand up to the asshole from then on. Take whatever he had to give, fight back. He'd have to kill me to get me out of his face … " John paused to chuckle. "He'd have to _kill me_! The dumb shit. See, he usually just slaps me around. Some bruises here, a black eye there. Whatever, I can take that. He didn't want me going out last Saturday night, the night I was meant to hook up with you. Mom had gone out to buy milk. As I was heading for the front door he starts loading on me, giving me the standard drunken bullshit: 'you retard piece of shit, where's this weeks rent? Why haven't you fixed my car?' What wasn't standard was the gun he pulled on me."

Claire took a sharp intake of breath. Did he just say _gun_?

"First dad punched me in the eye, almost slicing my eyebrow off. He got me with his fake gold 'pimp' ring he got in town. That thing _always_ fucking stings. I slam up against the living room wall, and the next thing I know there's a gunshot. For a moment I stupidly thought it came from outside, but then I turned to my right and there's a bullet hole in the wall an inch from my ear. I didn't even know he had that gun any more. I thought he sold it."

_John almost died_ Claire couldn't stop thinking. _John was almost murdered by his own father …_

"So!" said John, clapping his leather-gloved hands together after an awkward pause. Acting as if he were ready to move on to much brighter topics of conversation. "I guess this means I'm the winner of the coveted crappiest parents award."

But Claire couldn't bring herself to joke along with him – not like this. John shot a glance at her sad face. "I warned you," he said seriously, looking away from her. "My stories aren't pretty."

"I'm glad you told me the truth," said Claire in a quiet voice. "It explains a lot."

She imagined John making a run for it to his car after his dad tried shooting him. Skidding onto the street at full speed, inhaling a joint or two (or more) to calm his nerves. He was lucky a cop didn't pick him up, or that he didn't crash into anything.

Of course, Claire only _assumed_ this is what happened afterwards. But this was the most John had spoken about his life since … well, ever! She wasn't about to push her luck.

To her surprise, John had more to say.

"I haven't told you the part you'll like the least yet."

"There's something worse then you almost being killed?"

Now he looked at her, not joking at all. "Claire, I can't stay here."

She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. Her worst fear was about to be realised …

"I have to get out of here. There's this job, a carpentry apprenticeship in New York. It's through Gavin's uncle. He wants me there by the end of the week – "

"_Stop_!" said Claire over him suddenly, springing from the bed. "Please, just stop talking!"

She didn't want to face him. He spoke from behind her.

"I _can't_ stay."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time!" Claire turned and snapped in response, not meaning to sound so bitter but she couldn't help it. "What … what about school! Graduation's less then two months away, couldn't you just – "

John laughed over her. "Claire, sweets – _be real_. The only way I'm getting out of high school is by walking out in advance. A damn shame, too. Harvard Law was so eagerly anticipating my application this year … "

"Can you _not_ make jokes right now? Please!"

"Hey," said John to her soothingly. "You're one of the only people who's actually going to miss me around here. You know that?"

"Gee, that makes me feel SO much better!"

"For fuck sake, Claire! I'm doing this cause I want a life of my own!" said John passionately, walking right up to her. "I want out of this backed-up ass crack I've been living in. I wanna be able to make money and not have to give it to my old man. I wanna go somewhere until I don't hear his voice my head, and until I don't even remember what that fat fuck looks like! I won't stay in this town and end up like him. Marry some chick, have a kid, and then beat the soul of them! _I won't_!"

It was at that second, staring into John's impassioned face that Claire realised something.

_John was saving his own life_.

The guy who always thought he was the scum of the earth and was treated accordingly. The guy 'Most Likely To End Up Incarcerated' and didn't give a rat's ass. Mr. Self-Destructive. And she knew … Claire knew she had to let him go. It was so painful, but she had to. Taking her silence as a bad sign, John kept on talking. "I'm not leaving 'cause of you! I mean … you blew me in front of Vernon!"

_Huh?_

"What!" Claire said out loud, cutting off her train of thought. Why the hell would he bring this up now?

"Think about it!"

"No!" she responded harshly, glaring at him. "Don't you think that's kind of inappropriate at a time like this?"

"Claire," John endeavoured to explain, "I'm the kind of guy, as you well know, who if he were ever so lucky as to have his nuts serviced by one of the high school richies with Vernon only a couple of steps away, would then immediately broadcast it to his friends and anybody else who cared to listen! I would be a fucking _god_. Your prissy little reputation would be shafted, but I wouldn't care because I would be a god! But I said nothing. Not to anybody! It was so freakin' tempting but … nothing."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying I cared about you too much to do that to you!" said John, practically yelling at her. "And I've never cared about any girls before! _Especially_ girls like you! Its – "

" – fucked," Claire finished for him resolutely. And then she said, with tearful eyes but an accepting smile, "you're right."

"I am?" said John, thrown off guard. He was expecting more drama. "About what?

"You can't stay here. I think you should go."

"You're saying … you're saying you want me gone?"

"No," said Claire, shaking her head. "I want you to stay here with me, but I can't ask you to do that. I think you should go … for you."

It was as if she'd spoken in another language. It was taking John a moment or two to decipher the words. "You're letting me go? For real?"

"_Yes_!" cried Claire – exasperated again. "I'm letting you go!"

"You don't hate me then?"

"No! I love you, you butthead!"

Unable to keep herself under control any longer, Claire began to sob. Embarrassed, she turned away. She didn't want him thinking this tear-fest was her way of manipulating him into staying.

"I'm sorry!" she sniffed. "Just ignore me … "

Without warning, she felt his arms encircle her from behind. Hugging her.

"I couldn't ignore you if I tried," he murmured in her ear, making her smile.

John stayed over at Claire's house Friday and Saturday night. Like newlyweds, they spent the weekend in bed. Talking, sleeping … making love. _Making love. _That was a newfound expression for her relationship with John, Claire thought. Their physical interaction so far had been more 'animalistic' in nature. Now they had gotten to know eachother – realised they actually _liked_ eachother, god forbid. The tension was gone. They relaxed in eachother's presence and connected on a whole new level. Claire would always remember those days with John as some of the happiest of her life. Nothing like goodbye to make everything seem so much sweeter …

_New York city_. She could imagine John there for some reason. He was going by bus, leaving Monday morning before school. He wanted to get going as soon as possible he said, so he could start looking for a place to live.

Before Monday rolled by, Claire was thankful to have two virtually uninterrupted days alone with John. Sophie knocked on the door once on Saturday morning, to check if Claire was coming downstairs for breakfast. Claire told her she wasn't feeling so good, and that she was going to spend the weekend in bed studying. The biggest interruption of all had been Claire's dad. He knocked on Claire's door Saturday afternoon, asking to be let in. John – with the expert timing of a cat burglar, disappeared before Claire even got a chance to say "_hide_!". Claire quickly threw on her white dressing gown and unlocked the door.

"What is it, dad?" She did her best to look and sound ill.

"Honey, Sophie says you're under the weather again."

"It's fine dad, it's just a cough or something." Claire then made an effort to sound throaty.

"Your mother's worried about you. She wants to know if you want Sophie to take you to the doctor."

"Nah, that's okay. I've got some cough medicine in my room. I'm already starting to feel loads better."

"You shouldn't miss any more school you know … "

"I _won't_! Like I said, I'm already feeling better."

A noise came from behind her. The sound of something falling and somebody swearing hoarsely under their breath.

"What was that?" said Claire's dad, peering into her room over her shoulder.

"Nothing!" chirped Claire. "You didn't hear anything."

"There was a ruckus of some kind."

Claire had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling.

"Ah … something must've of fallen down in my wardrobe!" Claire explained. "I was in there before, moving stuff around. That's all it was."

Mr Standish didn't seem completely convinced, but he let it slide.

"Well … okay. Go back to bed honey, get some rest."

A few beats later, with Claire's dad good and gone, John emerged from within the confines of Claire's walk-in-wardrobe dressed in his boxers.

"What the hell is it with old people and the word 'ruckus'?"

"_John_!" Claire hissed at him. "Quiet much? My dad totally heard you!"

"It was dark in there, I got lost!" he protested. "Your wardrobe is like some neverending maze of clothes and shoes … "

They could've fought about this, but why bother? They didn't want to spend their last days together arguing about wardrobes and the use of the word ruckus.

"Get that robe off your wearing, it's a disgrace," John demanded teasingly. Claire smirked at him.

"Make me."

John cocked his eyebrow, and gave her a look that read: _"Do you _really_ want to go there, princess?"_

"_Ah_!"

She yelped and laughed as he threw her over his shoulder like Tarzan, before heading back to bed.

_Monday … Monday … don't think about Monday._

**17.**

**Monday, April 16th**

" … _what is gonna happen to us on Monday?"_

– Brian Johnson

They met at the bus station at 6.25 Monday morning. John's bus was leaving at 6.30. They both agreed they didn't want longer then five minutes to say goodbye. John had left Claire's house after lunch on Sunday. He said he had to go and sneak into his house – for what would be the final time, to get some of his things (and 'borrow' some money from his mom's purse). Then he was going to Gavin's.

Everything felt so mechanical. Claire's alarm sounded off at 5.00am. She woke up, brushed her teeth, washed her face, got dressed, ate breakfast and got in a taxi … like a robot. Like her body was doing all these mundane things on its own.

The taxi eventually pulled up at the curb of the bus station, arriving on time. Claire paid the driver and stepped out. There were a number of stations and buses. Lots of activity; engines running, hot steam rising off the pavement. Bus drivers darting back and forth, helping people load their luggage. People saying goodbye to eachother … a lot of them happy and all smiles. The one's Claire noticed anyway. Then she saw somebody sitting by himself on a chair, wearing a grey jacket and a red scarf.

Their eyes met. Claire walked over to him.

They stood in front of eachother, John's bus almost ready to leave. They embraced silently for two minutes. John removed the white beanie Claire had been wearing and kissed the top of her head.

"You'll be okay, kid," he said, looking at her.

"You too," she said.

Letting eachother go, John headed up the stairs and boarded the bus while carrying a rucksack over his shoulder. Claire watched him through the windows, walking alongside of him until he sat down in the very back. As the bus roared to life and backed out of the station, John wrote something on a piece of paper and held it up to the window for Claire to see.

'TBC' it said.

_To be continued._


	10. Part Ten: The Letter

**18.**

**Monday Evening, June 18th **

"_You may as well not even exist at this school."_

– Andrew Clark

_You've been gone so long. _

_No phone call, no letter. I can't reach you in New York because I don't know your address ... if you're even in New York that is. _

_So how's it going? Are you happy? Sad? Do you lie in bed staring up at the ceiling of wherever it is you call home, thinking about me? Like I think about you? Or am I just some distant memory? Some girl you once knew back at high school. Maybe you're not even alone in that bed I'm imagining ... _

_I'm sick of thinking about you. Wondering how you are, where you are, what you're doing. Wondering if you'll ever come back. Sometimes I swear I see you at school, walking down a hallway or into class. Pathetic, huh? Lately I just lie awake at night, totally numb because I've literally run out of tears to cry._

_One week from now is graduation. I'm leaving Shermer High and never looking back – just like you. I'm skipping college and heading to Paris to live with my brother for while (Mom and dad are super pissed off, as you can imagine). I figure you'll stop haunting me for good if I move to another continent. It's worth a shot anyway. _

_It hurts to write this ... not that you'll ever read it anyway. I hate you, John Bender. I hate you I hate you I hate you! I hate that you left me here all alone writing this stupid letter. But most of all, I hate how much I'm still in love with you._

_Somebody once said you didn't count. That you could disappear and it wouldn't make a difference. I hope you never really believed that. _

_TBC (though I'm thinking not)._

_Claire Standish_

* * *

**26/05/13** I'm BACK! And so is John ... soon. Hold tight.


	11. Part Eleven: Three Questions

**19.**

**Friday, June 22nd**

"_We'll get the prom queen – impregnated."_

– _John Bender_

_Prom._

Yes, tomorrow night was Prom. It was the night that most girls look forward to their entire high school lives. Claire Standish used to be one of them – that is, until she met John Bender and the Breakfast Club. Before they came into her life, Claire imagined herself attending Prom with one of the most popular guys in school, surrounded by the in-crowd and finishing the night crowned as Prom queen.

But now?

Claire could care less about Prom. In fact, Claire Standish wasn't going to Senior Prom at all.

Her friends (the one's she had left) thought she was being an idiot. Her mother, a former Prom queen who had nothing better to do then relive her glory days through her daughter, threatened to disown her.

"Claire, are you _sure_ nobody asked you?"

At the Standish residence, mother and daughter were arguing. Maggie Standish stood at the base of the staircase; Claire at the top, desperate to escape to her bedroom.

"For the last time, mom," Claire droned from above. "Nobody asked me and I don't care!"

"How can you not care?"

"_I don't want to go to the Prom_!"

With that, Claire stomped to her bedroom, slammed the door shut and crash landed on her bed. She was so tired of these arguments with her mother. Why aren't you going to Prom? Because I don't want to! But _why_? And so forth.

If only her mother knew what she had endured since John left. Not just the gut wrenching, bitter heartbreak, but losing nearly all of her old friends – most of whom had gone into overdrive spreading nasty rumours about her. No wonder nobody had asked her to Prom. And to top it off, she had to study for finals!

But Claire wasn't the only one with the weight of the world on her shoulders ...

It had happened in May. Claire wasn't sure when in May exactly; the end of April and the month of May had been bit of blur after all. Ever since John's departure to New York, Claire had been engulfed in what felt like an impenetrable, dark cloud. At school, or whenever she was around other people, she was like a zombie. When she was on her own, she was nearly always crying. Every day after school she would ask Sophie or her parents if anybody had called the house, asking for her. _Nothing_. Eventually she gave up asking.

Allison Reynolds, of all people, had been the one to bring Claire out of her bleak existence.

One day at the end of school, Claire was in the locker room getting dressed after gym class when she heard a group of girls laughing from the shower blocks.

"Why doesn't she just get up?"

"What's wrong with her?"

"I think she's gone retarded."

"What a freak show!"

The loudest voice Claire could hear belonged to her former friend, Harvey Crawford. Curious, Claire went to investigate. She was horrified at what she found.

Harvey and the old gang, all wearing towels, were encircled around one the showers. Their prey, as Claire came to discover, was Allison. She was sitting on the tiled floor directly beneath a running showerhead. Fully clothed, and holding her knees tight to chest while Harvey and the others laughed and attacked her with a steady stream of snide remarks. Allison didn't move or say anything as they tormented her. She was completely catatonic.

Unable to bare it any longer, Claire pushed past everyone and went to Allison's aid. She knelt down in front of her, taking her hand. Allison's hair was draped over her face like a wet mop.

"Come on. Let's go," said Claire.

To her relief, Allison didn't resist. She held Claire's hand and stood up. Everyone had stopped laughing. Harvey of course, couldn't help herself.

"I wouldn't touch her if I were you, Claire. She's probably diseased!"

That got everyone laughing again. Then, for the first time since her friends had turned on her, Claire finally gave Harvey a piece of her mind.

"Fuck off, Harvey!"

Momentary silence. Lisa and the other's looked worryingly at their leader; waiting for a response. Harvey stood her ground.

"Hey, we FOUND her like that! It's not our fault she's had her brain removed."

"God you're pathetic!" Claire snapped – suddenly sounding a lot like John Bender. "All of you! You wouldn't think to help her, would you? You're all so fucking scared of anyone who's not as perfect as you all are! Come on, Allison."

Claire lead Allison away from them, heading towards the exit.

"What the hell happened to you, Standish?" Harvey shouted to Claire's back as she walked away. "You've changed, ever since you went to detention that weekend. You ditched us and for what? To hang out with psychotic episodes like _her_? Your reputation is in the ground!"

Without saying anything more or looking back, Claire and Allison left.

Of course people stared. It wasn't every day you saw a student walking down the halls looking as if they'd just been swimming with all their clothes on. Allison's high tops made watery 'squelch' sounds with every step she took. Carl the janitor would have his work cut out for him cleaning the floors that afternoon.

Claire escorted Allison to her locker. Allison took off her soggy grey sweater, chucked it inside, then pulled out what looked like an old, long threadbare black skirt and started drying herself off with that. As she got herself in order, Claire glimpsed the inside of Allison's locker – which was a lot like the inside of Allison's bag. Second hand books, bits of rubbish, ragged clothes, a couple of doorknobs, a barbie doll's head ...

What sparked Claire's attention the most was Andrew's wrestling state champion patch, stuck to Allison's locker door above a black and white photo of Sylvia Plath.

"I'm gonna change my clothes in the bathroom," said Allison, looking a little drier. "Wait for me?"

"Sure," Claire nodded. "I'll be out front, my dad's picking me up."

After Allison tied her wet hair into a pony tail and changed into her black bomber jacket and jeans, she met Claire and Mr Standish out the front of the school. Allison agreed to go home with Claire, and as soon as they arrived both the girls immediately went upstairs to Claire's bedroom.

They sat on Claire's bed. Allison opened up her bag and handed something to Claire.

"Here. It's yours."

It was Claire's eyebrow brush – the same eyebrow brush John had used to clean his teeth in detention. Claire recalled how she had been looking at photos of all those girls in his wallet at the time ...

"I took it," Allison confessed, hunching her shoulders. "The first day I came over to your house with Del. I take things sometimes ... it's not as bad as it used to be. You okay?"

Claire was staring at the brush in her hand, thinking of John. "I'm fine," she said suddenly, snapping out of it and putting the eyebrow brush aside. "Thanks for returning it."

Tempted to just go ahead and ask what was going on, Claire held back. She was distinctly reminded of when John had been at her house, after his dad almost shot him. Claire had felt it best to wait for him to talk, without prompting him. She felt the same way now, with Allison.

"I broke up with Andy," Allison said eventually, in a small voice. "You've probably heard."

"Yeah. I've heard."

The news got around to Claire only yesterday, through Brian. When he told her, Claire had felt terrible. She'd been so caught up in her own 'John' issues for so long, she had failed to notice her friends were going through a difficult times as well. She was about to say something about this, to ease some of her guilt, but Allison spoke before she had the chance.

"He was so upset. I didn't want to break up with him ... "

"Then why did you?"

Allison broke down. Her whole body crumpled as she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Claire reached for the box of tissues on her bedside table and handed one to her.

"Thanks," wept Allison, taking a tissue.

"I'm sorry," said Claire. "For not, you know ... being all that available lately."

"It's okay," Allison sniffed. "I get it. I'd be the same way if Andy skipped town without a trace."

"Brian says you broke up with Andy because he wouldn't give up the wrestling team. Is that true?"

"Is that what Andy told him?" Allison blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "I mean, sure that pissed me off! He kept telling me he was quitting. He's under a lot of pressure though ... with his dad and everything. "

"Wasn't he going to go live with his cousin or something? To get away from his dad?"

"Didn't work out. His cousin's dad – Andy's uncle, didn't want to get involved."

Claire sighed. "So ... if you didn't break up with Andy because he wouldn't quit the wrestling team, why did you break up with him? And why were you sitting in a shower today wearing all your clothes?"

Looking down at her lap, Allison starting picking nervously at one of her black polished nails. "Water calms me down, when I get overwhelmed ... with stuff."

"What stuff?"

Allison's eyes welled with fresh tears. She looked up at Claire. "I'm pregnant, Claire."

She said it in a whisper, but Claire still managed to hear what she said. "O_h my god_," she murmured, her hand going to her mouth. Claire was completely stunned. Tears glistened down Allison cheeks.

"And I'll tell you something ... it's not my shrink's."

_At least her sense of humour's in tact_ Claire thought absentmindedly, half-smiling.

They took a moment. Claire needed a minute or two, to process what she had just heard. So many questions were running through her mind.

"Wow. I mean – are you _sure_ you're pregnant? Have you seen a doctor?"

"No point," Allison shrugged. "I bought three boxes of pregnancy tests and peed on every single stick. All positive."

"That's a lot of pee," said Claire, oddly impressed.

"Tell me about it," Allison snickered. "I had to drink two bottles of Mountain Dew in one night to do it. Plus I just ... _I know_. I know I'm pregnant."

"Weren't you and Andy careful?"

"Yeah!" said Allison defensively. "We always used condoms. It must've broke one time ..."

"Allison," said Claire, becoming very serious, "you've _got_ to tell Andy!"

"I know! I know I do," Allison agreed, taking a moment to chew her bottom lip. "If he ever speaks to me again, that is."

"What did you say when you broke up with him?"

The very memory caused Allison to grimace in pain. "Andy had just finished training. He'd been taking knocks from his coach and his dad all week ... and then _I _break up with him! I didn't even give him a proper reason. Just said it was done and to leave me alone. It was brutal. But I'm doing him a favour! It's way too much for him to take on, you know? Being a seventeen year old dad. A week ago he was talking about how excited he was to get out of high school, away from his dad. How he just wanted to go to college already and be his own person ... "

"Too much for _him_ to take on? What about you!" exclaimed Claire, exasperated. "You're acting like this is all your fault. Andy's in this just as much as you are. It's not like you could've made a baby without his sperm!"

"_Ew_!" laughed Allison, grossed out. It was the first time she had laughed in a while. "Do you have to be so graphic?"

"I'm serious, Al. Tell him! Andy's a good guy, give him a chance."

Claire had to remind herself, only three months earlier that Allison had no friends and parents who ignored her. She had lived nearly all her life that way; in the shadows, estranged from the world. It must still take a lot of getting used to, having friends. And a boyfriend – particularly a boyfriend like Andrew Clark. A guy who, in contrast, had spent nearly all his life in the spotlight.

"He is good," said Allison, smiling warmly as she thought of Andrew. "I'll do it. I'll tell him."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. At the wrestling match."

_The next day ..._

After school, Del drove with Claire to Allison's house to pick her up. It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they arrived.

When Claire had first come to know Allison in detention, she always imagined her living somewhere like that house from the 'Adam's Family'. In actual fact, the 'Reynolds Family' lived in a very boring, unremarkable one storey brick house across the road from a gas station. Claire had also come to learn Allison's mum was a hypochondriac recluse who didn't work and rarely left the house (unless it was to go to the doctor). They lived with her mom's brother – Allison's uncle, who was a plumber. He was never home that much.

Allison didn't know her dad. He left the family shortly after she was born.

"I'm so nervous!" said Del at the driver's seat, tensely gripping the steering wheel. Claire was feeling the exact same way, even though what was about to happen really didn't have anything to do with them.

"Me too. But I have a feeling everything's going to turn out okay."

"I hope so. Here she comes!"

Allison was walking towards them, wearing a navy blue dress and her signature pair of black high tops.

"Hey," she said, hopping in the backseat and shutting the door. "So ... how do I look?"

"Beautiful," remarked Claire encouragingly.

"Gorgeous," added Del. Allison smirked shyly.

"Good. I spent two decades doing my hair and make-up! Thanks for letting me borrow your earrings, Claire."

They were about to leave, when Claire eyed someone across the road at the gas station. Someone she had never seen before, but who bore a striking resemblance to someone she knew ...

"That's his dad," said Allison, noticing Claire. "He goes there a lot."

"Who's dad?" asked Del, looking past Claire to the gas station.

"_John's_," said Claire quietly, continuing to stare.

He was just like his son. Older obviously, with grey hair and a noticeable beer gut. The eyes had it, though. Those dark, intense eyes ... so achingly familiar.

Then, to everyone's complete and utter shock, Claire suddenly jumped out of the car.

"_Claire_!" hissed Del. "Claire, what are you doing?"

"I'll be back in a minute," said Claire, shutting the door behind her and striding towards the gas station.

"What's she gonna do?" wondered Del, watching the gas station in fear.

"I think she's gonna kill him," said Allison casually from the backseat, causing Del even more anxiety.

John's dad, who had just filled up his truck up with gas, walked inside the brightly lit station to pay. Claire walked in after him.

"Evening John," said the clerk, recognising him as he approached the front counter. "The usual?"

John senior and the clerk spoke for a couple of minutes, as Claire listened intently from the background. She'd picked up a gossip magazine and was pretending to read it.

_His voice ... he even sounds like John._

Their conversation wasn't all that interesting to listen to. John's dad asked the clerk to add a roll of cigars to his tab and a new lighter. When he reached into the pocket of his jeans to pay the bill, Claire noticed a faded knife tattoo on his arm, and a large gold ring on his finger. Her blood turned cold ...

"_First dad punched me in the eye, almost slicing my eyebrow off. He got me with his fake gold 'pimp' ring he got in town. That thing __always __fucking stings.__"_

Then, walking right by her, he left. A minute or so later, once he'd driven off, Claire emerged from the gas station and headed back towards Del's car. Sitting back in the front seat, Del was the first to try and say something.

"Claire, are you – "

But before she could finish, Claire – like an explosion – screamed at the top of her lungs. Allison and Del also screamed. Startled by Claire.

"_Holy shit and fuck_!" gasped Allison from the backseat, her hand on her chest.

"I'll second that," panted Del.

"Sorry," said Claire, after a pause. "That was ... way intense. Seeing his dad, I mean."

"Are you ... "

"I'm fine. Really!" Claire assured them both, taking a deep breath. She looked behind her shoulder, to Allison. "That was stupid of me. This night's meant to be about you and Andy, not me and John."

"It's okay," said Allison, unperturbed.

Del let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh my god, Claire. I was _so_ scared you were going over there to deck him! I had visions of us getting arrested."

Claire and Allison began to laugh. Allison especially.

"Claire goes to jail for beating up John Bender's dad," Allison joked, still laughing. "It's poetic!"

_Shermer High School_.

Del parked the car.

"Ready to go?" said Claire, turning to Allison.

She wasn't – clearly. To say she was scared shitless would be an understatement. But Allison couldn't back down now.

_Give him a chance._

Once inside the school, the three girls merged into the crowd of students and families streaming towards the gymnasium – primed for this evening's big wrestling match. Allison broke away from Claire and Del soon after, deciding to head for the boys locker room. They both gave her a hug, wishing her luck.

Allison now stood alone at the locker room door. It was very place where she regularly met Andrew after his training sessions. She was unsure how to proceed. She hadn't come in with a game plan ...

Then, one of Andrew's wrestling friends walked by her, about to enter the locker room.

"Hey!" Allison spoke up, recognising him. "Um, can you get Andy for me?"

He looked her up and down, recognising her as well. The way he looked at her, Allison was sure he was about to tell her to fuck off. Luckily, he didn't.

"Hang on," he said, disappearing inside.

As Allison waited, she closed her eyes.

_I don't want to be alone anymore. Please ..._

It felt like an eternity before Andrew came out. When he did, Allison opened her eyes.

They looked at eachother for what had been the first time in days. Andrew was dressed in his blue wrestling uniform; ready for battle. He looked at her indifferently, trying to mask the pain she had caused him. Allison felt her eyes watering up.

"Hi," she said, gently.

"Hi," he said back, flat voiced. "What is it?"

Allison's mouth fell opened, as she struggled to place her words. "I ... I wanted to see you."

To this, Andrew snickered. "That's funny. Aren't you the one who's been ignoring me all this time?"

"I know. I – "

"_Clark_!"

It was Andrew's coach, appearing without warning from within the locker room. "Thompson said you were out here. Back inside, you're up in three minutes!"

"Just give me a second, coach," said Andrew firmly. "I'll be right there, I promise."

Andrew's coach was not pleased. He impatiently looked from Allison to Andrew, saying "_make it fast_!" before walking back inside. Allison suddenly looked angry. She hated Andrew's coach ...

"Not letting up on you, is he?" she remarked, with a note of pity. Andrew, however, wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"Is that what you came here to tell me?" he said, his tone cold as ice. Allison was visibly hurt.

"No, it isn't. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you, Andy. Actually, I was kind of surprised you didn't make more of an effort to try and see me ... "

"_What_?" said Andrew, his eyes narrowing at her. He took a step forwards. "You told me to leave you alone!"

"_So_?" said Allison, firing up. "Do you always have to do what people tell you to do!"

"What are you saying? That this has all been some kind of _test_? Look, if this is all you have to say to me then I'm just gonna go back inside and – "

"_Don't_!" Allison pleaded, her hand reaching out to him. Andrew waited. "Andy, please! I have to say this."

"Say what?"

Without realising it, Allison's hands had moved protectively to her stomach.

_Now or never._

* * *

"There's Andy!"

Claire and Del had front row seats, overlooking the gymnasium. To the crowd's delight, Andrew Clark – their star wrestler, had just stepped onto the floor. Everyone stood up out of their chairs, cheering: "_Clark_! _Clark_!" The atmosphere was electric. Claire wisely observed, however, that Andrew seemed far removed from everyone's enthusiasm. He was ashen faced; like he had just been delivered some life altering news.

"She's told him," Claire said to Del, without a doubt in her mind.

"You think?" said Del, looking over at the exit. "Where is she then? Maybe we should go find her."

"No," said Claire. "Just wait a moment."

Back on the floor, Andrew secured his helmet and mouth guard. Flanked around him, like two walls, were his coach and his dad. He was about to face off a wrestler from a competing school, dressed in red on the otherside of the gymnasium.

"Focused, Andrew?" said Andrew's dad, though it sounded more like a warning then encouragement. Andrew nodded automatically, as his coach slapped him on the back. Revving him up.

"Of course he's focused. He's a thoroughbred, this one is!"

The crowd continued to cheer, though Andrew failed to hear any of it. All he could hear was a loud ringing in his ears ...

"Get in position, Clark!" he heard his coach yell, his voice sounding like it was coming from a long way away. Andrew was meant to be focusing on his opponent, but instead all could do was look to his left. To the exit, leading out of the gymnasium.

His mind trailed back to Allison ...

"_Andy, please! I have to say this."_

"_Say what?"_

_As she moved her hands over her stomach, Andrew couldn't help but notice. It was the way she did it ... like she was trying to hide something. _

_And then, without her having to say a word, Andrew knew. They looked into eachothers eyes; conversing silently. Tears fell from Allison's eyes._

"_Yes," she said, in confirmation. _

"_CLARK!"_

_It was Andrew's coach again, back for round two. And it couldn't have come at a worse time!_

"_In a minute, coach – "_

"_Forget it! Whatever it is, it can wait until after the match. Inside, now!"_

_Andrew's coach was not going anywhere until Andrew did as he was told. Andrew had no choice. But before he left, he made sure to say to Allison, "don't move!"_

Allison was pregnant.

"ANDREW CLARK!"

Back out in the gymnasium, Andrew's dad was barking furiously at him from behind. "Concentrate, god damn it! What are you looking that way for?"

It was official: Andrew couldn't do this anymore.

To everyone's sheer amazement, Andrew turned on his opponent and walked the other way. Towards his dad and his coach.

"What in god's name – ANDREW!"

His dad and coach charged at him. Andrew spat out his mouth guard and threw his helmet to the ground.

"Put those back on, _now_!" his dad ordered him, his face burning with rage.

"No," said Andrew, without hesitation. He looked his dad dead in the eye. "I won't. Not anymore"

"What the hell's gotten into you, Clark!" Andrew's coach chimed in, looking at Andrew as if he were a total basket case. "You know how important this match is. Wrestling's your future!"

"No it isn't," said Andrew, resolute. "My future's outside, waiting for me in the hall."

"_What_!"

"I quit."

Neither his dad or his coach knew what to say. Had they heard him correctly? But before they could say or do anything, Andrew turned on his heel and jogged towards the exit of the gymnasium.

"ANDREW!" his dad called out to him, but it was useless. The crowd were on their feet, murmuring in confusion. That is, except for Claire and Del. They were unfazed, sitting in their chairs. Smiling.

"_Allison_!"

She was sitting on the floor outside the boys locker room, with her back against the wall.

"Andy?" she said, surprised, looking up at him.

"You're still here."

"Yeah! You told me not to move, remember?"

To this, Andrew smiled.

"Do you always have to do what people tell you to do?"

Not wanting to hang around for his dad or coach to make an unwelcome appearance, Andrew went over to Allison and helped her up off the floor.

"Andy, what's going on?"

"We better hide ... "

"Hide? Why?"

"_Trust me_!"

They ran through the hallways, until Andrew steered them both inside a closet. Yes – the exact same closet John and Claire liked to regularly hole up in.

"Andy – "

"Just answer two questions," said Andrew, looking at her straight and breathing hard. Allison blinked a couple of times, before giving a single nod of consent.

"Okay."

"Is the only reason you broke up with me because you were pregnant?"

Again, Allison's hands moved protectively over her tummy.

"Yes," she said shakily. "I didn't think you'd want to be with me if you found out. You know my dad left my mom after I was born. She always made out like he left because of me. That's why she ignores me ... "

Andrew lifted up his hand, to wipe away one of her tears. Allison closed her eyes and swallowed; savouring his touch.

"Second question," Andrew proceeded, hand lingering on her cheek. "Do you want to have the baby?"

Opening her eyes, Allison answered, "Yes." Andrew sighed, his expression unreadable.

"All right then," he said.

"All right then what?" said Allison, furrowing her brow.

In response to this, Andrew knelt down in front of her. On one knee. Allison was having trouble breathing ...

"Andy ... what are you doing?"

"I quit wrestling," he said, a smile forming on his lips as he said it. This caused Allison to stop breathing almost all together.

"_What_! You mean just now?"

"Yep. In front of everyone."

"How come?"

"It was time," said Andrew simply. "I was out there, with my dad and my coach behind me ... and all I could think of was you. I saw us together. I saw the baby ... _our_ baby."

When he said "_our_ baby", Allison broke down. Even Andrew was tearing up now. Trying to remain as composed as was humanly possible, he nervously took her right hand in his and held it.

"I know this is a little ahead of schedule, but ... will you marry me, Allison?"

Allison was sobbing even harder than before – if that were possible. Then, managing to calm down a bit, she joked, "that's three questions, Sporto." Andrew laughed.

"I'm sorry. I've lost the ability to count, these tights are cutting the circulation off to my head!"

Now they both laughed, Allison's face wet with tears.

"You're completely out of your mind, you know that?" she said, squeezing his hand. "But yes. I'll marry you."

Andrew immediately stood up. "You will?" he said brightly, needing to hear her say it again.

"I will," Allison confirmed, sniffling.

Unable to stop smiling, Andrew wrapped his arms around her and kissed her for the longest time. He didn't want to let her go.

"_Oh god_," Andrew breathed, arms still wrapped tightly around her and his forehead pressed into hers. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you ... "

"I love you."

"I love you ... "

With one hand sliding down her spine, Andrew boldly enquired, "Wanna stay in here for a while?"

Allison was having the same thoughts exactly.

"Yuh huh," she said, in a breathy voice. "It's not like those tights leave much to the imagination."

* * *

Back to the evening of June 22nd ...

Claire was sprawled out on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She smiled to herself.

_Andy and Allison. Getting married! _

The general consensus was that Andy and Allison getting married was the worst possible idea in the history of bad ideas! After all, there were many factors _not_ in their favour: they were seventeen, had only known eachother since March, and had already broken up once within a three month period.

Still, Claire couldn't help but believe in them. As Allison once said to her ...

"_I make him feel crazy, and he makes me feel sane. We're exactly what the other needs."_

They were a match. Plus they loved eachother, very deeply. That always helped.

With these thoughts swimming hazily through her mind, Claire got up off her bed and went to her window. She opened it up, letting in a warm, summer breeze. How many times she had stood at her window, overlooking the street below. Imagining she could see John Bender, standing on the street corner smoking a cigarette. Waiting to climb up to her window ...

Claire suddenly caught her breath. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her?

"_John_?" she whispered, squinting.

She ran for it – out of her bedroom, down the staircase, out the door and through the front gate.

"John!"

_No one._

"John!" she called again, looking up and down her street. No answer. The street was deserted.

Chastising herself for being so stupid, Claire was about to go back inside until something caught her attention in the grass below. Glowing bright orange ...

The remains of a cigarette.


End file.
